Remember Me
by ElectricFlowerChildren
Summary: One year. That's all he has to prove he can love. If he fails, he loses everything...forever. Draco/Hermione.
1. The Start

**_Hermione: _**

The fighting always started the same. There was a good moment, a peaceful moment, and then, out of nowhere, there was a twinge in her stomach. _Something is not right. Something does not fit._ So she'd sit up or stand up or walk to the side and Ron would try to follow her. "What's wrong?" He'd ask, and there was never an answer so she made one up. "My back hurts." Or "I think I need to go home and sleep." Anything to avoid the actual truth, the real reason nothing had been right for months. And he would try to get her to stay, he really did. He'd smooth her hair back, push his skin against hers; he told her he loved her, that she was beautiful, to stay the night. But she couldn't share this feeling with him. She couldn't expand her unhappiness upon another human being. So she shouted and she screamed and she threw bottles against the wall and she snapped his wand and stepped on his feet. And no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't bring her back to the light and so she left, to stir in her craziness, all by herself.

The fighting always ended the same. She would stand in front of the mirror and watch herself brush her teeth. She pulled off her clothes and climbed into bed, completely naked, exposing herself to only herself. The sheets were never enough to keep her warm so she burrowed down, deep down, and she slept. She always had the same dream. She never dreamt of anything else.

And the next day, when Ron would apparate over to make her breakfast; when he would pull off his shirt and climb into her sheets, press his skin against her back, mold his fingers into hers, they were over just a little bit more. Not just the fights, but the love. The people.

Until one day, she couldn't feel anything anymore. Not just with Ron but with anyone. Her head was going to explode and she couldn't live with it anymore. The lie of herself; the lie of them together. She ended things with Ron and she tried, so hard, to forget.

Hermione felt Crookshanks shift in her lap and looked down at him. Running her hand over his bristled old fur, she smiled and remembered the day she bought him. Her little arms had wound around the great ball of orange mass and as he grew older she grew sadder that their time together was almost through. She had never been a cat person before and didn't think she'd get another when he was gone. She stroked him again and then picked up the book at her bedside. She had picked up reading again since her and Ron had split a week ago. She hadn't had much time while they were together and as her nose went deeper into the folds of the pages, she almost found herself…glad, that things were over between them. This, at least, was something she benefited from it.

It had been like a divorce in the end. When they were first together, the war had just ended. There had been no courting, no flowers, not even a moment where one asked the other out. Rather it was unspoken, a silent agreement. Two people who had loved each other for a very long time. And now, two people who didn't. But it hadn't always been this way. It hadn't always been so terrible.

There had been that first summer after the war…Ron whooping and running through the sprinklers in the back of the Burrow. Harry and Ron picking her up and swinging her around like a carousel; the cool afternoon breeze picking up and drifting in through the kitchen window as Hermione taught Molly to freeze kool-aid into ice cubes to suck on. There was then the afternoons that the four of them spent under the trees, Ginny sticking her acid pops green tongue in Harry's face and Ron licking hers. It had been so sweet and so carefree. None of them had wanted to remember and for a while, neither had she. But there are some things you couldn't toss away like a candy wrapper. Memories aren't tin foil that crinkle and glimmer in the sun.

She put the book down and cracked her knuckles. Crookshanks grumbled and swayed off on his bowed pudgy legs. As she looked around the room she could only think about how empty it looked without Ron's things. Her flat had always only been her flat, they had not moved in together. But his things- the dust from his broom after practice, his t-shirts that always smelled just a hint like toothpaste and freshly mowed grass; the picture frames with the moving and smiling pictures and the random things she never noticed until they were gone-they were always there. She didn't hurt over her decision to end things with Ron. But she did feel the loss of him.

**_Draco:_**

The oil slipped through his fingers like sand and with practiced hands he tucked it behind his ears and over his brow. The white blonde hair that normally would fall to his shoulders was now smoothed in a careful array. With a casual glance in the mirror he flicked off the lights and left his room. Draco Malfoy had long ago lost interest in his appearance. He knew which parts of his father and mother hid in his face; he recognized which creases and lines belonged to events of the past. The only thing that ever changed was his long and lithe frame. As the year went on he grew sinewy and frantic. Restless.

Apart from his appearance his life also remained the same. It had been nearly three years after the war and he was still exactly where he should be. He lived with his mother, his father was in Azkaban, and he was extraordinarily wealthy and powerful. He was fortunate enough to remain in favor of the Ministry and his involvement with the Dark Lord was excused based on eyewitness accounts of Dumbledore's death. And so, Draco had all of the recognition he could ever ask for. His Dad left him everything and as a result he had no need for a job but rather spent his time managing the Malfoy estate. In his free time, he had picked up the art of women-rather, he learned how to charm them into doing whatever he wanted. But somehow, he found himself alone, more often than not; he wandered listlessly around the town of London at night, bottle in hand, and himself as company.

He was unsatisfied.

All of the money in the world and none of it gave him enough.

_Hermione: _

She packed quickly but efficiently. What she needed most she brought but items that she was merely attached to-old paperbacks, records and dishes, were left behind. In the end, all she had was a carry on and it wasn't so heavy that she couldn't sling it over her shoulder. After fastening a grumpy Crookshanks into a carrying case, she stood in the doorway of her flat and looked around. Everything looked, as it should. No one would know that someone didn't currently live here simply by looking. Her rent had been paid in advance; she had taken a leave of absence from her job at Gringots. And so, with a heavy heart, she apparated with a soft crack.

She arrived in Ireland. Long ago her parents had told her stories of their plans to retire there when they were sure she could sustain a life on her own. They never got the chance. As she lay in her flat weeks ago, her heart both too full and empty all at once, she decided without much thinking that this was where she was supposed to be.

The Bed and Breakfast in front of her was meant for magical folk, but was in Limerick, among all other businesses. This particular B&B was owned by a retired witch named Madge, who kept her cottage located on a small farm with dusty roads winding and curving it's cobbled lines away from the rest of the town. She loved it immediately. The roof dipped low and hung over a narrow but warm looking porch. It was dusk and the lights had been turned on in the house to give a musky glow to the cob stone and rocks surrounding it. The trees were greener than she had ever imagined they could be. Her heart expanded for this place that was to be her home, indefinitely.

Madge sensed her presence before she ever made the decision to go inside. She flung open the door and smiled a toothy grin.

"Hermione, sweets! You're here!" She grabbed Hermione's bag from her shoulder and held it with one hand and with the other, Crookshank's crate. "Come now, before it gets dark. You must be tired!"

She was, actually, though she had woken late. Letting go of home, not knowing if she'd return, had taken a lot from her. So she followed Madge up the creaky porch steps, and into the house.

"That's right, now follow me." Madge began climbing up a winding staircase made of the most beautiful oak wood she had ever seen.

As Madge climbed, Hermione took a moment to examine her home from a glance. All she could see was the front but from the corner of her vision she could see the beginnings of a kitchen and what looked like a reading room. The rooms were artfully and tastefully decorated from what she could see. Everything was clean but cluttered together in arrangement. Madge's head popped over the balcony and she beckoned for Hermione to join her. She quickly stepped up the many steps and finally hopped up on top. There was a narrow hallway, with three rooms and a bathroom. The one room at the end was open, so she walked over to it and Madge was indeed in it, placing Hermione's bag on the floor near the bed and crooning at Crookshanks.

"Is it alright if I let him out?" Madge asked. "I have cats of my own he can play with."

Hermione set the cage on the floor and opened the hinges. Crookshanks flew out immediately in a haze of orange. She stood and smiled. It was good to let him out and let him explore without worry like she did in London.

Madge grinned at Hermione.

"Well this is it, isn't it? We've already discussed payment so all that's left is this." She handed Hermione a beautiful tiny silver key. It had an exquisite design on the top in which all knots seemed to tie into the other. "Make sure you don't lose it. The charm to produce another is rather expensive."

With that, she cheerfully hugged her and then left the room to Hermione and her thoughts.

_Draco:_

It was while he was wondering one night that he stumbled upon the old hag. Or rather, she stumbled upon him. The bottle of Jack was heavy in his hands tonight, and no matter how much he emptied in his mouth it did not get lighter. His feet grew heavy- heavy as his heart and sick as his head. He tripped on the corner of a cobblestone and into an alley. _God damn Muggle pavement_, he thought and seethed over his scuffed shoes.

He became very aware of his own breathing-loud and labored as if he had run a marathon. There was no one around but himself, and though Draco had long since been used to his own presence he was disturbed at how very alone he seemed to be when moments ago he had been in a crowded bar. Then he smelled her.

It was a peculiar scent; one of dried skin and damp earth. Her hair, tangled and longer than Dumbledore's beard, appeared from behind the end of the alley and that skin-the skin of an old woman who had long since been dead- came crawling closer until finally she was before him.

"Dracoooo Mallfoooy." She slithered from behind two broken front teeth. "You're time is up." He recoiled. Her breath reeked of old porridge. She twisted a long spindled finger around his neck, caressed his ear like that of a lover. "No longer will you roam the streets at night, using those like life has used you. You will know life or you will die."

"I don't understand." He stammered. "I've done nothing-"

"You have done nothing, and that is why you will pay. The fates have rewarded you with a second chance at life and you repay us by throwing it away, day to night and bottle to floor."

He peered closer. Her eyes were shiny like glass and in them he saw himself. His shirt was soiled from her grimy fingers and mouth turned down.

"You have a year, Draco Malfoy. You must fall in love, and be loved in return, or you will loose your magic forever."

His hand instinctively went to clutch his wand, but it was not there. In a moment of panic he grabbed the woman's shoulders. "Where?" He breathed.

She pulled his long, thin wand from the folds of her robes and then tucked it back in.

"One year. Or it is ours…forever."

And then he was laying face down on the road in front of the bar. Rain had started to fall and it was a hot rain, like tears. His mind shriveled and expanded, dilating over and over again. He opened his eyes and turned over, letting the rain hit his face and feeling each drop.

* * *

**A/N: My story was deleted this week, for "improper rating". After initial annoyance, I decided to publish it again, due to many people saying they never got to finish. So here it is. My first story, for better or worse. Enjoy!**


	2. Headache

**Disclaimer: I do not own any of J.K Rowling's characters. I am also not making any money off of this story. Just a poor college kid wanting something to do with the time normally used for sleep.**

**March**

**_Hermione: _**

She woke with a headache that felt like the four walls of her mind were caving in. Her eyes lazily scanned the room and with a short panic she tried to remember where she was. She sat up-_my head, my head_-and saw Crookshanks at the end of her blankets, his stomach rising and falling in rhythm with his breathing. She relaxed and remembered.

Her feet gingerly touched the wooden floors of her bedroom and she gasped in surprise. Spring mornings in Ireland held all of the dew and promise that winter was still here. In the bathroom she looked at herself for a long time before turning on the shower. The mirror fogged and hid more and more of her face until she couldn't see him anymore; the corner of his lips, the dip of his red hair touching his eyebrows. She shook her head and tried to stop thinking about it.

The warm water hit her back in a million different places. Each drop untangled a knot in her back that she had forgotten she had. Sleepless nights left her tossing and turning, her back aching for hours after she woke. The water began to run cold and so she grabbed a towel from the hanger and wrapped its fluffy material several times around her body. She was suddenly overcome with inability to move. Her body sank down and she drew her arms around her knees. _Just this once, _she thought. _I can remember just this one time. _And so she did.

_"Mione, Mione, Mione." She hated that abbreviation of her name, almost as much as the fact that her parents _named_ her Hermione irritated her. It was a lazy excuse of a nickname- a cop out of the tongue's battle to say the whole thing. _

_ He ran his fingers down her sides and she felt sleek, the water hitting his back first and her stomach next. She was comfortable like this. There wasn't pressure. They faced each other in a waterfall waltz. _

_ His mouth trailed down her neck, brushed over her shoulder. He bit softly and she tightened inside. _Not now, not now. _But he was getting excited and his red chest hair was rubbing up against her breasts. She squirmed and he mistook it for excitement. He was inside of her quickly and through her discomfort she managed to let herself try and feel good. It was over more quickly that way. He came as he wrapped his thick arms around her. "I love you." He told her and she knew that in anyone else's case it would mean something entirely different. But Ron really loved her and for right now at least, she loved him too. It was only at nights, when she was alone, that she loved no one, including herself. _

**_Draco:_**

The first time he tried to do magic was at the Malfoy manor. He was outside and it was cold for a spring day. His hands fumbled with the pack of Marlboros before one finally settled between his teeth. He craved the sweet release and his fingers moved towards his wand to light the cigarette. But the wand was gone.

"Fucking fuck."

It took him an hour of searching in his room before he remembered that he no longer had a wand, or magic at all, and by that time he was curled up on his bed. What could it mean that he had to make someone love him?

"I could name countless people who love me." he seethed.

But then, those people didn't love him…not really. They needed him. Even his own mother, who was entitled to none of the estate without a male member of the family, needed more than loved Draco.

His eyes shut and he started to breathe slower. He knew what he had to do. His father had a house near Lough Neagh in Ireland. It was a small place, furnished with elegant but simple pieces and although in the heart of Ireland, was isolated enough that it was quiet. Peaceful. He bought the house a year before the Dark Lord had fallen, and never used it. His mother didn't even know it existed and as far as he knew, no one but him knew about it either. He sat up and looked around his spacious room. He was reminded of last night, when the hag took everything.

But did she really? As Draco looked around, he _saw_ everything. His large bed stuffed with owl feathers and sheets the colors of Slytherin. He saw a dresser and a wardrobe, all-full of expensive robes and clothing; books donned the shelves on his wall and trinkets of all varieties littered the floor, which was in fact made of plush carpet. He knew the rest of the house was the same. Draco had everything, even without magic.

It was only himself that remained empty.

**_Hermione:_**

Madge was an excellent cook, and she reminded Hermione of her mother, except where her mother used her hands to cook, Madge swirled items and ingredients around in the air with her wand, dropping them in different pots until smells surrounded her. The kitchen, in fact, became Hermione's favorite place to be.

Her days were simple. She woke late, showered, grabbed a book from one of Madge's selections and then went to the kitchen. Dinner took most of the afternoon to prepare and Madge never objected to Hermione sitting curled in a chair reading. They kept each other silent company, and it went like this for a little over a week before Madge finally objected.

"I'm very fond of you." She told her. "But you know, this isn't healthy."

Hermione looked up from _Wuthering Heights_ and raised an eyebrow.

"My mother always encouraged me to read. She said it made for a well rounded mind."

Madge shook her head and turned to face her. She wiped her hands on her apron and smiled.

"There are ghosts between the words that you read, and one day you'll have to pay attention to them as well."

Hermione's eyes narrowed and then sank. Hadn't she come here to find something? _No, _she thought, _I came to escape everything._ She unwrapped her legs and rested her feet on the ground. The paperback slipped from her fingers and fell to the floor. When she went to pick it up, Madge stooped to get it first and placed it in Hermione's hands.

"Don't loose yourself in the process of loosing someone else. You'll find that being alone, and without yourself, is worse than anything else you've faced in life."

Hermione stood and looked around uncertainly.

"So, then, what do I do?" she whispered.

"_Find_ yourself instead. Go explore Ireland."

_**Draco:**_

The entire house smelled like freshly washed sheets; the china had never been used. Everything was unfamiliar, but the comfort of being inside a house kept him from leaving. It was better to stay inside- to sleep, to eat, and to watch the ocean- than to go and face the unknown.

Draco told no one he was leaving, and when he left he gave no notice either. He packed nothing and bought only a ticket aboard a boat, which would take him across the seas. He knew his mother would be worried. Worse, he knew she was in danger of being thrown off the Malfoy estate. But as he pondered how to handle the issue of leaving he found that the best option was to choose none. To simply leave and let everyone wonder. And they would be curious, he was sure of it.

But Draco couldn't stay inside forever. While initially he bought enough food to last for a week, he had stretched it to be almost two weeks. Now there was simply nothing left and he was hungry. Not just for food but human contact of any kind. He did not do well with loneliness. That was how he made the decision to finally leave the house.

It was with a heavy heart that he put on the ordinary Muggle clothes he had been forced to buy. The sweater was a deep blue and a made out of a thick wool and his pants were tan slacks that rested loosely on his thin frame. He slipped his feet into the heavy boots and then pulled open the door. He was greeted with a brilliant sun that never failed to impress him. The air seemed to be clearer here, as if the weight of the world no longer had impact on the people's everyday life.

It was a long walk, but Draco had grown used to walking since his magic was gone. His legs formed questions as they bent and then stamped into the ground. The roads twisted and wound around and within each other until he smelled, distinctly, fresh fish.

The market was a surprise to him, though he had been once before. The layout had changed, the stands facing opposite directions and offering different items. One stand smelled like spices his mother favored-not that she knew anything about cooking. He walked towards it and picked up the first thing he saw.

"You want parsnips?" the man behind the cart asked. "One pound, 3 euro."

He had no idea what to do with a parsnip. He barely even knew how to serve himself cereal everyday. But something about the weight of the parsnip in his hand was alluring. The ability to make the decision to buy the parsnips and have it affect him and only him was satisfying in a way comparable to sleep after days of not having any. He nodded to the man, who placed 3 or four parsnips in a brown bag and handed it to Draco. But what else? _Whatever I want_, he realized and looked around in frenzy. Carrots, beef, onions, peas; he moved around the market picking up cheeses and potatoes and sausages. He had a hole to fill, and it wasn't _love_ that would wet his hunger. It was food and solitude that would nurse him back to health.

He wanted fish. He hadn't had seafood in years; there was no need for delicacies as such. But who would stop him now? He reached for the woman with the toffee colored hair; her curls were just tame enough to not hide her ears completely.

"Excuse me miss," He pulled on her shoulders, yanked her around to face him. "I need-"

And then an inhalation that left him winded. A thrumming in his head, and he was _so close_ to exploding. His guts would lie on the bean sprouts to his right; his liver would rest with the fruit behind him.

"Granger."

**Hermione: **

She wanted to melt and sink into the roads. If there were a wall she would back into it until she was on the other side. She was repulsed and considered dry heaving onto his shoes.

Neither could say a word to the other and it was so awful, to just be standing near him after all this time, after all these years.

He looked as though he might unhinge his jaw and speak. He didn't. They were both frozen with fury in the middle of a storming crowd. Someone shoved into Hermione from behind and she knocked into his shoulder. _Malfoy…_ she seethed. But it was only her mind and she had to get it out, she had to-

"Leave." She spat and turned on her heels. She didn't look back.

**Draco:**

He decided to forget he ever saw her. He picked his groceries up from the ground where he had dropped them in shock. He walked back home and his arms were aching. His _insides_ were aching.

Had she known? Could she tell just by looking at him that he wasn't even in _her_ league anymore? He was lower than a Mudblood, lower than a half-breed. He was ordinary, and hopelessly so.

But he was also hungry. The hole was growing inside him and if he had nothing than he had to make _something._

But he didn't know where to start. Groceries lay out in front of him and all he could think was, _this is just a puzzle. These pieces all have to fit, somehow._

And then his hands started to move, as if on their own accord.

He claimed a knife, and that knife cut the pound of beef into little cubes. There were many pans, but he chose one and took the beef, swirled it around in oil, and let it brown. He wasn't sure he was doing it right, but it smelled so good. Beef broth, water, parsley, salt and bay leaf; he mixed them all together and hoped, somehow, this would fit. That somehow these pieces would correspond together like everything else in his life seemed to fail to do so. He added carrots, prepared potatoes, covered it with peas and Parmesan. He wondered to himself _how_ he knew to do it all in the order he was doing it, but let it go just as quickly. It was like potions class, where nothing was certain but in the end there was always _a result. _ Right, wrong, new, old-there was always something to show.

And then he ate. He chewed and swallowed and enjoyed the silence.

**Hermione:**

Her heart didn't stop beating until she was in her room, hugging Crookshanks too tightly and breathing in the smell of his fur, which still smelled like home. She didn't eat dinner, she didn't fall asleep and when the sun peaked and came in through her window it was Madge that finally broke through the barrier.

"How about we go for a little walk?"

Hermione opened her eyes, slowly, like she was afraid of what she might see. White hair, flat gray eyes, a sneer-but no. None of it was there.

She agreed.

It wasn't exceptionally cold out, but Madge encouraged her to bring along a fleece, just in case. The soft material covered her shoulders and arms, giving her a strange feeling of being enveloped and comforted.

"Where are we going Madge? And why are we walking?"

"We just have to walk a little further and then we'll apparate. Can't just pop in and out everywhere-not even Irish folks are that understanding."

The ground crunched beneath her feet and she found that she had missed doing this. Enjoying the air, the trees, and the earth. Her parents had always wanted her to find the balance between magic and her life at home, but without them she had let it slide until she couldn't even remember the last time she had just…walked for the pleasure of it.

Madge stopped beside a hard old tree, with knarled branches and tiny buds that were the beginnings of a flower of some sort.

"Well, this is it." Madge said and touched a single finger to the bark. "Hold onto my hand."

"You're not even going to tell me where we're going?" Hermione bit her lip, worried. Splinching was so much more possible if you didn't know clearly where you were ending up.

"Don't worry, I could apparate to this place in my sleep." She extended her hand once more and Hermione took it.

The unpleasant feeling of being squashed and stretched, narrowed and shoved surrounded her and she hated it. She never really liked apparating. When she could see clearly, she noticed the flowers first. A sprouting of beautiful red and purple, yellow and blue flowers clustered together and apart, near and far, close and yet very distant. Then she saw the body of water that lapped near the surface. It invited her in and so she started walking towards it. Madge followed close behind.

"Where are we?" she asked.

"Killarney National Park." She answered. "When I was little my Mum and Dad took me here."

"It's peaceful."

"When I was about 15 years old I told my Dad the same thing. It was a little after my Mum died of cancer, and I was so sad all the time. And then I came here with him for the first time since she left us and we had a little picnic packed but we didn't eat any of it. We just sat here. And he told me, "Margaret, it isn't the place that is peaceful but your soul." And I believed him."

Hermione said nothing. What could she say to the woman who barely knew her and yet understood her more than anyone she had known her entire life? She understood the loss that Hermione felt, without her even having to mention it.

"My parents died in the war."

Madge nodded and rested a hand on Hermione's shoulder.

"They never really leave us, you know. I used to think that my Mum gave up on me. That she couldn't try hard for me, but I see now that she left _for_ me. To save me a place, wherever she is."

"You believe in God, Madge?"

"I do."

"Even though you're magic?"

"Well it only makes sense, don't it? Magic, after all, is a work of God. It's visible proof that God is real."

"That's never how I looked at it."

"Maybe you weren't trying to see further than your books."

It was quiet- still and even. Hermione and Madge stood side by side and looked at the water, which never grew boring or tiring to look at. Hermione spoke first.

"Thank you."

"Don't thank me, Hermione Granger. Ireland is beautiful because she is cherished by her people."

And it seemed to Hermione that this was the first time she had ever been somewhere where the people belonged to the place, rather than the other way around.


	3. Memories

**Disclaimer: I do not own any of J.K Rowling's characters, nor am I making any money off of this story. Seriously, look at the shit I have to eat everyday. **

**A/N: Thank you**** Alice Wednesday, I Fell Into Yesterday, Gaara's Plaything, LoganLover8128 and Anon for your kind reviews. This chapter was harder for me to write, as I used my own memory for Hermione's. So go gentle on me, please.**

**April**

_**Hermione: **_

Afterwards, her mornings took on a new pattern. She began to wake earlier so that she was showered and dressed before Madge had even started breakfast. At first she tried to help cook, but found that her fingers were too stubborn and twice as unwilling. Madge made up for it by memorizing Hermione's favorite combinations. She was a woman of routine and Madge knew it. The eggs or the porridge, the cereal or the toast slid down her throat still hot and it burned slightly, but she never minded because then came the main reason she woke up in the morning. After she had helped clean up-because she could do that, at least- she would slip on her shoes and maybe even a sweater over whatever shirt she was wearing and run out the door.

It had taken getting used to. She had always had Harry or Ron to do things with and as she grew older the list expanded. Ginny, Luna, Neville, Seamus, Fred, George and even Percy wasn't too much of a git all the time. She had developed many acquaintances through work as well. There was Jake, for one, the cute brunette who Ron was always so jealous of. He had always been up for coffee at break and sometimes left wards down at his flat so she could pop in when needed. She had never been so alone before, and by choice for that matter. She was burrowing inside of herself, and she was scared she wouldn't come back out.

Eventually, though, the world expanded for her. She had no ties, not even Madge had any responsibility over her. She came home for meals out of courtesy more than necessity. As the days passed she found herself walking more, one time being overcome by a swell of gratitude that Madge had introduced this wonder to her.

She couldn't get enough of Ireland. There was so much she needed from the place and it had more than enough to give. However, March slipped into April and she received the first letter sent since she left at the beginning of March over breakfast. She peered at the parchment over a bowl of porridge. The owl had hooted and clicked its beak affectionately at her until she smoothed her fingers over its feathers. It brushed its wing against her shoulder and flew out through the window before she could guess whom it was from. She had a fairly good idea though, and decided to finish eating before she dared to unroll it.

_Hermione,_

_ How could you leave without a goodbye? How could you not think that I-we-wouldn't need you as much as you pretended to need us? At first I thought you were just ill when you didn't contact any of us, but then your landlord said he hadn't seen you around for weeks-__**weeks!**__ Maybe our friendship wasn't what I thought it was. Maybe it's better you're gone. I don't even know __**where**__ you are._

_ Ron misses you. _

_ Harry._

_**Draco: **_

He avoided love because he was being forced into it. But strangely enough, it did not mean he was unhappy. Not after awhile anyway. Draco had always been alone, even when surrounded by people. By forcing himself to be without, he realized that this was what he had always needed.

He found solace in teaching himself how to cook. There was a rhythm to his life when his hands were moving.

But what he loved most about Ireland, was the nonentity that he had become. He walked, because he could do nothing else, and the people swarmed around him. They shoved into him and only briefly apologized before continuing to walk. No one stammered out, "S-s-sorry, Mr. Malfoy", or bent to kiss his feet.

He loved the crowded places most; the markets and the tourist traps. When he was alone he saw visions of the hag and her long curling fingers. Nights became the worst and he began to search for a pub to reside in.

The one he found smelled familiar. He couldn't place it so he ordered a drink instead; vodka, because it looked like water and he felt less guilty about drinking it. One wasn't enough. Two only made him a little dizzy. _Three isn't too bad_, and he gulped it down until: Four-he was sliding off the chair and suddenly he knew what he smelled. Desperation…self-loathing and disgust. For himself, for the people around him who couldn't face their problems either.

He was having trouble walking out the door but his feet slipped smoothly, as if he were walking on air. He sank to his knees though he hadn't prayed in his life. A rotten smell hit his nose and he took comfort in the fact that he was in an alley littered with trash because it felt like home and the smell overpowered the one pouring from his skin.

_Who could ever love me like this?_

And then the answer, more clearly than anything he had ever heard in his life:

No one.

_**Hermione:**_

She didn't know why she was standing so still. She didn't know why she was letting the blood drip down her leg in an almost musical manner. How she came to this place in her life where even shaving upset her, she couldn't fathom but she did know that she wanted it to stop.

She wanted her life to be happy again, and for things between her and Ron to not have been as horrible as they were. She wanted to push someone and have them hold on instead of let themselves fall back.

A tissue made it's way between her fingers and she gently sopped up the blood and then put a plaster on. She was still naked, and felt very exposed in the chilly bathroom. But she couldn't move. Remembering the last time she had let herself crumble, she decided to be somewhere different this time. She only made it to the hallway before another memory hit her like a brick and her head hit the floor, remembering…always remembering.

_"I'm starving."_

_Hermione put the paper down and sighed. _

_ "You're always starving."_

_ Ron shrugged and stood, stretching a little. She never liked his happy trail, especially when it was rubbing against her stomach. Now it was exposed and the dusk sun coming in through the window gave it a fiery color._

_ "Want to go get something to eat?"_

_ She picked the paper back up and pretended to scan it vigorously._

_ "Not particularly."_

_ "Hermione."_

_ She looked up. He was staring at her, almost seeming to sense another episode coming along._

_ "Well goodness, Ron. I didn't know it was such a crime to not be hungry. But, oh please, don't let _me_ stop you from eating."_

_ He grabbed the paper from her hands. _

_ "Stop it, Hermione. I just want to spend a little time with you."_

_ "We can spend time together here."_

_ "In a flat with no food?"_

_ "Order out then."_

_ His fingers drummed on his knee. He was trying to find a loophole. He shouldn't try. She was only getting more irritated._

_ "Hey!" She looked up and saw him standing behind her, looking down and smiling. "Why don't we go and try that new Korean place you're always saying you want to go to."_

_ She shrugged and let her mouth turn down an inch. She wished he would leave her to the paper. She did so much better on her own._

_ "Well you said you wanted to go just this morning. At lunch, remember?"_

_ "I don't feel like putting my shoes on."_

_ "I'll put them on for you."_

_ "No."_

_ "Ok." He started to move towards the bedroom and it was this pathetic retreat-this groveling and giving up like a dog with its tail between its legs- that finally got to her._

_ "What do you feel like then?"_

_ His back stiffened. Ron never wanted to fight. Not in the beginning._

_ "I'm not that hungry. Why don't you go and look at the menu's and choose?"_

_ She got up, the paper slapping down angrily on the table. Ron winced but turned back towards her._

_ "You feel like Chinese?" she asked._

_ "Whatever. Or, er, no. I don't know if I want Chinese."_

_ "Have we ordered from this Thai place before?" she held up a blue and white menu, waving it in his face. _

_ He looked briefly at it and nodded._

_ "Yup. That's the one where…you said the Pad Thai tasted like vagina."_

_ She reared back and ran through her memories. _

_ "That wasn't this place, Ronald…and, I did _not_ say that it tasted like _vagina._ I said, 'this Pad Thai tastes like __**Poon**__ Thai.' So just pick a menu, Ron."_

_ "Fuck it, Chinese it is. Chinese ok with you?"_

_ "Fine."_

_ "Well what would you rather have then, Hermione?" He was exasperated. She was pushing him too far, once again._

_ "I just said that Chinese was _fine_."_

_ "Alright." He looked at the menu. "So we'll get the beef and broccoli with white rice only, and General Tso's. And uhm…Low Mein?" He was kissing up. Lo Mein was her favorite. He didn't even like it. Said they used too much peanut oil._

_ "Anything." She had picked the paper up again and wasn't paying much attention. _

_ "No, too much peanut oil."_

_ She snorted in the folds of black and white. _

_ "How about a shrimp dish? You love shrimp."_

_ "Ronald, __**whatever**__." _(Shut up…)

_"Well you're not helping me, 'Mione."_

_ "Just pick two dishes!"_

_ "Yeah, alright." He picked up the phone to order. It irritated him that Muggle's needed to use phones still. "I'll just get the egg plant like I wanted." He dialed the number and she heard it ring._

_ "Well I guess I'll just have some of the chicken, then." _

_ The man on the other line asked what he could get for them and Ron just hung up._

_ "'Mione, I am not ordering an egg plant just for myself!"_

_ "It's called leftovers, Ronald." She said sourly._

_ "Eggplant. Sucks. The. Next. Day."_

_ "Fuck this." She put the paper down again. "Let's go to the Korean place!"_

_ Ron smiled a bitter, angry smile._

_ "I don't feel like going out now."_

_ "Well I don't want takeout. Come on." She whispered. She didn't want to fight anymore. She decided, maybe too late, that she didn't want to sleep alone this time._

_ Ron had sat on the couch however and put his feet up on the coffee table._

_ "No, I'm all settled in now."_

_ She stood up and walked over to Ron._

_ "Come on…" she knocked his feet off the table and kneeled before him. "Please…"_

_ He picked her up and she wrapped her legs around him. Her hands rested on his shoulders. He smiled and kissed her lightly. She allowed it. She allowed the closeness._

_ "Go get my coat." He spoke into her hair._

_**Draco:**_

__Draco saw her again April 8th. She was sitting on a bench and eating out of a Styrofoam box. The plastic fork shoveled food to her small pink lips and he could see her swallow with no relish. He was holding a similar Styrofoam box, which led him to believe that she was eating from the place he was. A small stand in the market offered fresh food, cooked by a large man named Alfred. He was a Muggle but his food was delicious. Every day, for two weeks, Draco came to Alfred at lunch and sat on the dock, watching the sea gulls and smelling the fish. He had hated that smell almost a month ago, but now looked foreword to it seeping in his clothes, lingering for hours afterwards. It was the one time a day where he didn't feel like he was pressured. He had never seen her here before now though and it threw him off. It took three minutes to make the decision to walk over. His steps were slow, and he could hear the hesitation on the pavement.

"Is anybody sitting here?"

Her head snapped up. Her face went through all of the notions of recognizing him; shock, disbelief, and acceptance. Then confusion, as she remembered his previous question.

"No…"

And then he sat down. She was familiar-hated, but familiar. And somehow, in the lights of Ireland, she was new to him. She looked tired, sad and…old. She couldn't be old though. She was maybe twenty-one.

He opened his box and the aroma of chicken and rice hit his nose. He looked over and noticed her legs were crossed tightly, her can of Ginger Ale raised to her lips. She took a sip and he looked down at his food again. He picked up his own can and studied it. It said _Ginger Buzz_ in white letters.

"You ever heard of this brand of Ginger Ale?" he asked, out of nowhere.

At this point she was eating again but stopped with her fork in the air. She put the fork down and glanced over at the can.

"No, I haven't."

She resumed eating, but slower as if expecting his next question.

"It probably cost two dollars to make a case of it in Japan."

And where had that come from? Why did he think she would care?_ He_ didn't even care.

"Uh. Exactly." She shook her head and took another bite. Was that…curry she was eating?

He coughed.

"You know, it's me…Draco."

She turned to look at him slowly. She nodded her head slightly and gave him a bemused expression.

"Hey, Malfoy."

She saluted him with her fork. He felt as uncomfortable as he had the last time they met. While she turned slightly the other way, trying to get him to leave most likely, he took the chance to glance into her box. She was eating Alfred's special- fried rice with curry, and some vegetables on the side.

He cleared his throat and looked at her. She turned again, this time appearing a bit impatient. He didn't know what to say so he looked at her food again.

"You know…I…Alfred…" She raised an eyebrow. "He puts that little salad on the side of the chicken and the rice?"

"Yeah." She pointed at hers.

"Well I started…he…you can get, instead of the fried rice…he'll put the chicken on the bed of salad for you. So you can get a salad with grilled chicken…and…three fifty…" He looked the other way.

"Great. Good to know."

"You know, you can continue to get the fried rice if you want. I just…if you're interested in something a little more healthy…"

She scooped a big bite on her fork and stuffed it in, making a tiny face at him.

"Or he can uh…just make a salad for you."

"Watching my figure for me, are you?"

"Oh, no…fuck…"

He had been away from people for too long. He had forgotten how much he loathed her smart remarks.

"I'm surprised there is room for food in that mouth of yours, Granger. What with those two boulders you call teeth blocking the entrance."

She nodded, smiling, clearly biting her tongue. She would eat and leave him, was what she would do.

"So then, asshole…How come you aren't eating a salad?"

He looked at her seriously.

"Ah, good question. Glad you asked. You see…I'm in training."

"Training…yeah, I can really see you've bulked up over the years."

"Aren't you even going to ask what I'm in training for before you insult me, Granger?"

"No."

"A rice eating competition."

"Oh, good luck!" She closed her box.

"It _is _you, isn't it?"

"Hmm?" she stood.

"You're Granger…aren't you?"

"Hermione, actually." She threw the rest of her food again and drained her can of the remaining soda.

"I was just joking about the rice…and the salad."

"I figured, Malfoy."

"Yeah, because…you know, the rice and chicken is pretty healthy as well."

She looked at him one last time.

"Thanks for the tip."

_**Hermione:**_

What had made her go to the market was unclear. Hunger, mostly; boredom as well. She had spent the beginning of her day in the Killarney Park, finishing _Wuthering Heights_. She had never taken this long to finish a book before, and it surprised her how much she liked that. The story seemed more drawn out that way, as if the characters were taking their time telling her the story.

But after she finished she couldn't linger. She was restless, shaken from her memory the other day. So she apparated a few miles from the market and then walked, not thinking about anything but the roads ahead of her. And when she had finally sat, ready to eat and relax, Malfoy had walked over and her whole body vibrated with anger. It didn't even make _sense_ that he was here. How was it even possible that he had decided to be here, when she was as well?

He talked to her about…salads, and healthy choices. About off brands of Ginger Ale, as if things like that even mattered to her anymore. And when she left, she had heard him shift on the bench, as if he were moving to where she had previously been sitting. The thought made her…confused. Not happy, not sad, not angry…just confused.

And later that night, after she had stumbled into her room and fallen into her bed without even peeling off her clothes, she was reminded of that first time she had even met Malfoy and of the time he had called her Mudblood…and when she was being tortured six years later in front of him and he did nothing.

She began to fall, slowly, into a dreamless and powerful sleep.


	4. Wall

**Disclaimer: These are not my characters; I make not profit off of them.**

**A/N: Thank you **I Fell Into Yesterday **and **Alice Wednesday. **I love that someone has gotten into my story this much :] This chapter or the next is the last update that I'll have for awhile as my break is almost over and I can't keep staying up all night writing. Anyways…**

**April (still)**

_**Hermione: **_

She takes up running. It fits, she figures, because she is always running from something anyways. Her feet hit the ground one after the other and her muscles strain to stay inside her legs. Her lungs hurt, but she doesn't stop. And it is she, this time that sees him.

He is leaning against the brick wall and smoking. His eyes are closed and smoke billows out of his mouth like clouds or waves, and she can almost hear the ocean. And since she has already ran once today, she knows she has used it all up and she can't run anymore but considers it anyway. He opens his eyes and takes another drag, deeper this time. He sees her and lets the smoke drift out between his teeth as he smiles and beckons.

She's a little tipsy on air and stumbles, as she gets closer. But then, there he is, right in front of her and she can't think of what to say. He offers her a cigarette but she shakes her head and he puts it back in the case.

"Gave it up…" she mumbles and he knows it's a lie. She never even started.

He pulls it back out and places the thin tube in her fingers. She looks at him, and only him, as he lights it for her-with a lighter of all things! - And then he's wrapping his hand around her hand and lifting it up to her mouth for her. His finger is opening her mouth just a bit and then he's helping her slip the cigarette between her teeth, and without words she knows he wants her to drag so she does. It hurts every part of her and she chokes; she tries to give it back but he does it all again and by the third time he has taken another out, for himself, and is smoking facing her. Their smoke surrounds the two of them but she can still see that hair of his, and his nose and the curve of a smirk (or a sneer?) and she doesn't know how she got here…she doesn't know in general. All she knows is this is the most present she has felt in…the most here and now she has felt in…since…

But now he's grounding the butt into the wall and flicking the remainder of the white and orange tube into the trash. He's walking away and leaving her with the remainder of what just might be a smoking gun.

_"_Where have you been all day, sweets?"

Hermione shrugged. She was wearing a pair of running shorts and a tight t-shirt, but she smells like smoke and knows that it's filling the kitchen.

"I think…I'm not sure I…" she can't finish the sentence.

She feels like she's climbing a hill, her knees hurt and she knows she's going to roll down the other side very soon and can't do it in front of Madge.

She runs up the stairs and the door to her room opens and then she's on the floor, always the floor, and her hands are gripping the rug, knowing she never gets to decide if she wants to remember or not. She lets it come.

_"Why don't you wear this shirt?"_

_ "Because stripes make me look like a circus elephant."_

_ "Ron, it makes you look so handsome. Come on, this shirt…and this tie?"_

_ "Hermione!" He grips her hands in his bigger ones. "No!"_

_ She throws them both down and walks over to the couch. She looks at him, in his plain blue button up, which is actually the shirt that makes him look like a circus elephant, and laughs as he struggles with his tie._

_ "Well alright, you give it a go then!"_

_ She snorts and shakes her head. He fumbles some more with it and then loses his patience._

_ "Go back to bed, Hermione."_

_ "What's the matter? Someone tense already?"_

_ "Why don't you just go back to sleep?"_

_ "Why don't you stop being an asshole?"_

_ She sighed and picked up her cup, which was full of coffee. She wasn't going to be tired enough for sleep at this point. Ron finally figured out his tie and folded the shirt collar around it._

_ "So do you feel…do you feel like yourself?"_

_ He turned and looked at her._

_ "What?"_

_ "Well, you always say that you hate interviews because you always just end up not acting like yourself."_

_ "Yeah. Feel like myself." He mumbled._

_ "So…do you know what kind of things you'll be talking about? Or do you think you'll just wing it?"_

_ "Why?"_

_ "Don't get so defensive, I'm just curious."_

_ "Well stop. Go back to bed."_

_ "Ronald, I can go back to my flat if you want but I'm not going back to bed. I'm not tired. So stop."_

_ He had sunk into the armchair near the bedroom and was breathing deeply. His hands moved through his hair repeatedly and every couple seconds he cleared his throat._

_ "You ok?"_

_ "I hate interviews. I bloody suck at them. I go in there and before they even say anything I apologize for myself and I just…" he leaned back and groaned._

_ She walked over and sat next to him. _

_ "Come here." She said and pulled him to her. He rested his head on her chest and closed his eyes. "You're going to be great."_

_ "I'm so tense." _

_ She smiled loosely. _

_ "You're the best interviewer ever."_

_He arrived home later than she expected him to. He smelled strange-like fresh office supplies and…dollar bills. _

_ "Hey. How did it go?" she was watching TV still from the corner of her eyes. _

_ "Fine." He said in an almost breathy way. He took off his coat and hung it up. He rolled up his sleeves and took off his tie._

_ She forced a smile on her face and stood up. Tonight she wanted things to be ok. She didn't _always_ want to fight with him. _

_ "That's it?" she asked. "How did it go?" She followed him as he walked into his room._

_ "It went fine, Mione."_

_ "Well did they…give you any…I don't know, indication?" _

_ "They said they'd call me and thanked me." He changed directions and she followed again._

_ "Well good! You got the feeling it went well?"_

_ "I just said it went well, didn't I?"_

_ She took a step back, smile frozen on her face. _

_ Ron was looking through the fridge with determination. As if the leftovers inside might suddenly change into something else._

_ "Look, I really just don't want to talk about it anymore. It was an interview. It went fine. Now I'm home. OK?"_

_ "You hungry? Let me make you a snack."_

_ "I don't see much." He shut the fridge and walked to the other side of the island._

_ She was getting annoyed, the familiar feeling bubbling in her stomach like a potions experiment. _

_ "Well I could make you a pb&j." She smiled. Ron loved Pb&js ever since she introduced it to him years ago. _

_ "Yeah. Whatever." _

_ She rolled her eyes and grabbed the bread from on top of the fridge. In the cupboard she pulled out a half full jar of peanut butter and in the fridge there was grape jelly. She placed them together and they sat in front of her on the island like weapons. She pulled open a drawer and took out two knives. Ron put a plate down in front of her and then walked to the other side, watching her. _

_ "Is this what you call a _peanut butter and jelly _sandwich_?" _he sneered. "Pb&j?" he scoffed, only slightly. _

_ She ignored the comment and took out two pieces of bread. She tried to imagine this was like every other night, where she was making him food and then they'd watch TV together or read and then go to sleep. It was routine. She needed that routine. _

_ "Yup." _

_She opened the peanut butter and put one knife in it, pulling it out with a big wad of peanut butter at the end. She spread it all around on the bread and then moved to the jelly. She stuck the other knife in it and then did the same with the jelly on a new slice of bread. Ron had a look on his face, which was half sneer and half condescending. _

"_What are you __**doing**__?" _

_She paused, jelly knife in hand. _

_ "Don't start with me." She warned._

_ "Well it's only a question."_

_ "I'm trying to be nice." She seethed._

_ "Are you using two knives to make a peanut butter __**and**__ jelly sandwich?"_

_ "I don't want to get the peanut butter mixed in the jelly jar. So DON'T start with me." Her eyes were closed, her mouth open in silent prayer. __**Not tonight, please not tonight.**_

___"Fine."_

_ She slammed the knife on the table, a jelly stain spreading on the white surface. Splatter marks hit in myriads, like blood. Like war. _

_ "What's the difference Ron? You'll get the sandwich and it will taste the SAME."_

_ "There is no difference, Hermione." He smiled nastily._

_ She picked up the knife, which was sticking to the table slightly. She closed the sandwich and cut it in half. _

_ "Actually, you know what the problem is? That only a fucking __**moron**__ would use two knives to make a "__**pb&j**__" sandwich. Who do you even think you…" He started to move towards her. "Give me the knife." He grabbed for the knife in her hands. She backed up quickly and moved around him. "I'm not going to kill you Hermione, just give me the knife!" _

_ She wouldn't give it to him and so he went for the one still in the peanut butter._

_ "Now watch me. Are you watching me?"_

_ She was frozen._

_ "Fuck you." She said but her eyes never left his._

_ "First what you do is you spread the 'pb'" He pulled a new slice of bread out and moved peanut butter around on it. "Now you see this excess pb on the knife?" He waved it in her face. Her mouth turned down to her chin. "You wipe it on the OTHER slice of bread. And you see that? You see it?" He waved the bread in her face. "The peanut butter shit stain means that the knife is CLEAN and can be used in the jelly now. Ok, fuck face?"_

_ He threw the knife down. Hermione was boiling mad. She could barely stand it and she was going to-_

_ "I DON'T WANT TO DO IT THAT WAY, OK?" Her eyes were going to pop out of her head. "You are a FUCKING ASSHOLE!"_

_ "Yeah, Hermione. It's always me being an asshole. Only me. Why don't you take responsibility for your own stupid shit?"_

_ "THE KNIFE IS NEVER CLEAN ENOUGH RON! OK? FUCK FACE?" And she threw the knife at him but it missed and hit the sink. "Why don't you go fuck yourself!"_

_ She stormed into his room and sat on the bed. Then she heard him._

_ "This bread is SOFT, Hermione. So it will ALWAYS make the knife clean. Unless of course, you're a fucking Mudblood and don't know how to do anything."_

_ She stood slowly, her knees shaking. She walked in what felt like two steps and made it across from him. They were inhaling each other's air, feeling each other's steam. While she was watching, Ron took the knife, which he had put back in the peanut butter and then slammed it in the jelly jar, mixing it all together deliberately. _

_ "Don't you take it out on me because you choked in your interview."_

_ And then she apparated out._

Afterwards, she was pulled out of her mind and now that she had come to, she was sobbing and she was alone. She had hated him so much. She hadn't spoken to him in months but she remembered it all like it was yesterday. They were so perfect together, and then they fell apart and she didn't know why. She couldn't figure out why they had crumbled and slipped through her fingers and she knew…she knew…there would be more memories and she wouldn't be able to stop them but she hoped that next time, she would be strong enough.

_**Draco: **_

Somehow he knew she would be there tomorrow and so he left early to get there first. She had beaten him though, and as he looked at her he felt resignation to whatever she would throw at him. That was why he had came, right? To be beaten up by her? She was the one person who would fight him back if he started anything, and after last night, which he had spent at the bar again, he was desperate for the cutting words. He needed to be degraded. He needed someone to hate him more than he hated himself.

Instead, she walked up to him. She reached into her jacket pocket and pulled out a pack of Camel's. Slowly, she pulled out a single cigarette and then put the pack back in her pocket. She took out her wand and lit it, placing it between her teeth. She was close now, and he could feel her body heat seeping into his clothes…his skin. She took a deep drag and then held it. Then, with a small smirk she stood on her toes and placed her pinky on his lips. She pulled down, exposing the dark "o" of his mouth. And then…she blew. He understood immediately and sucked in the smoke, holding it in and then blowing it all out carefully. She smiled and stepped back. As she moved her fingers up to her lips again he moved quickly and grabbed it from her. She made no move to take it back. Instead she simply left. The crack of her apparation stayed in the air for a minute and then he continued to smoke until it was burned down.

_**Hermione:**_

The next day, night had fallen and she saw no signs of Malfoy. She remained by that same inconsequential wall, leaning and then sitting, closing her eyes. It had been hours but she wouldn't move. She was so pent up, still angry from that remembered fight. She needed to yell.

There was a rustle in the branches of the trees and she knew without opening her eyes that it was he. She heard a flicker and then smelled smoke.

"What are you doing here, Granger?"

She opened her eyes and looked up.

"Not excited to see me, are you?"

"Not particularly."

She stood. Held out her hand. Waited for the happy feeling of the cigarette in her palm. She didn't even like smoking. She just liked this. The breathing in and out. The smell in her clothes. The vibration of anger she got from being near him.

"Thought you gave it up?"

"Thought prats like you didn't care about Mudblood's business?"

"Shut up."

"Light me."

He came closer and flicked on the lighter. He held it in front of her face and saw the amber glow of the flame in her eye.

"How bad do you want it?"

She shoved the cigarette in his fingers and started to walk away. He grabbed onto her arm.

"Not even going to say goodbye?"

"Fuck off." She shook him from her and apparated home.

_**Draco:**_

"Why do you like Camels? They're too short and they taste like ass." He grabbed one from her outstretched hand.

"Why are you taking mine then? Surely you have your own?"

"I was just asking."

"And I'm just reminding you."

It was quiet except for the sound of sucking and exhaling. He didn't mind her presence as much as he previously did. He would have preferred someone else, but she wasn't the same as she used to be in school. She didn't blurt out things no one cared about and she didn't pretend to know everything either. Instead she asked silent questions and answered the verbal ones he threw at her.

"What do you do? Or what did you do?"

She flicked the tip of her Camel and let the ashes fall on her shoe.

"I worked at Gringotts."

"Doing?"

"Nothing. Deskwork. Answered questions."

"That's pathetic."

"So is that sweater."

He smiled into his cigarette. He didn't like her shirt either, but he was above petty appearance comments, unless it concerned her hair or her teeth. Neither was even bad anymore but she still winced when he pointed it out.

"So the brightest witch of our age is…working a desk job?"

"Fuck you, Malfoy. What's it to you?"

"Doesn't seem fitting."

She contemplated that for a minute. He watched her face as she tried to find words.

"I guess…I liked giving people their keys. Or, rather, I liked making sure people had the key that was there's."

"Sounds thrilling." He said dryly and took a deep drag, letting silence settle before he blew it out and acknowledged her again. "Ok, fine, Granger. Go ahead and tell me _why_ you like giving keys."

"Because it was simple. A key belonged to each person. And only that one person could have that particular key. And every person came in with only one clear issue-to get to their bank and get their money."

"And what about married people? Don't they share keys?"

"Yeah, shut up. Punching holes in my answer won't make what I said any less truthful to _me_."

His cigarette had burned down. He put it out in the ground and stood.

"Why are we doing this? I don't like you, you know."

"Isn't that _why_ we're doing it?"

He scratched his head slightly. His hair was in desperate need of a cut.

"You piss me off."

"I barely say anything. You're the one that asks me questions all the time."

"Oh, come off it. You love talking about yourself."

She was done with her cig then, and she stood. She burned it out absentmindedly, looking at him while she did it.

"I'm going to go now."

He nodded. Looked indifferent.

"Fine."

_**Hermione:**_

She didn't want to go anywhere when she woke up. Her mouth felt like cotton and she hadn't eaten in days. She heard tentative footsteps outside her room and then the door swung open.

"Tea?"

She sat up, holding her hands out eagerly. The cup was warm in her hands, which felt dry and smelled stale. Had she showered recently? She lifted a hand to her scalp and grimaced. Maybe she hadn't.

"Thank you, Madge." She said.

"I haven't seen you around in awhile. Ireland treating you well?"

She considered the contents of her cup. On the one hand, Ireland was everything she wanted it to be. But on the other, she missed Harry with an ache that seemed to settle deep in her bones. She hadn't responded to his letter for fear of him discovering her whereabouts using a trace spell. But he hadn't contacted her either, which made her sad. Except for Malfoy, no one had really talked to her in almost two months. At that thought, an owl swooped in the room.

"Ah, I was wondering when that little guy was going to make his way up here." She patted Hermione's knee. "I'm going to go start on supper. If you need me, just call."

The owl dropped a heavy piece of parchment in her lap and then flew to the ledge of her window. She placed her cup of tea on the bedside table before unrolling it. Her eyes scanned the paper several times before she got out of bed and grabbed her quill.

_**Draco:**_

"I quit my job, today."

She looked horrible. She reeked as well. When he offered her a smoke she had refused and looked in the other direction. It was quiet for a long time. Draco went through three cigarettes before he finally breathed in her direction.

"Ok, enough."

She looked at him, her eyes wide.

"Don't like me moping in your presence?"

"I couldn't care less about your disposition, actually. But if you're going to be sulky in my vicinity than you might as well have a drink."

.x.

"I'm not even sad over quitting. I did it on impulse. They offered me more time off since I hadn't contacted them and I just…quit. I don't want to go back there."

She was drinking a martini, like a fucking woman. He wasn't drinking at all, for once.

"Quit whining then."

"If you don't like it than leave."

"This is **my** bar!"

"It's called 'Malfoy's'?"

He growled, his throat burning. She was in a right mood today and he didn't want any of it. Why he had led her to the bar he didn't even know. He regretted it more as the hour went on.

"Stop. Put that down."

She raised an eyebrow to him and shook her head. He took the glass from her and drained it. God, an apple martini of all drinks? He motioned to the bar-tender and ordered two Liquid Cocaine's.

"If you'd like something sweet, take this. But I'm warning you…one is enough to knock you out."

She drank it fast; faster than even he did. She smiled and ordered another. That one was gone quickly as well. Neither said much to the other, and Draco took his time drinking his one drink. It was when she started slumping foreword that he knew it wasn't going to be quiet for long.

"Time to go, Granger." She had had enough and he wasn't going to hold her hair while she puked.

She leaned on him a little as they staggered out and into a corner where it was safe to leave. No one was watching as she grabbed onto his arm and they suctioned out.

They were in front of a house. It was quaint and small, like the place he was staying in only not so cold looking. She took one step towards the house and fell over. She didn't move so with a deep sigh he bent down and picked her up. She was light, and her head lolled back. Her curls were knotted and damp and they smelled like the bar. A small woman opened the door for him, and he found his way up the stairs. Her room was the only one open. The only one with things in it. He walked in and tripped a little over the rug. She stirred, but only slightly.

He had half a mind to dispose of her right on the floor but somehow he didn't. He placed her on the bed, and he walked out. He didn't want to see her anymore and yet somehow he knew he would.


	5. Box

**Disclaimer: ****I do not own the rights to any of these characters and I'm certainly not making money off of this story.**

**A/N: To my usual lovely reviewer Alice Wednesday and my new reviewers, such as Celestine Alexis. Your praise is the only things keeping this story going. **

**May**

_**Draco:**_

"You're six years old when you develop the personality that is set for life."

"Hm."

"Don't care for my helpful facts, Granger?"

Hermione put her water bottle down next to her and shrugged.

"That wasn't helpful. It was rather stupid, actually."

"Not if you actually listened to what I said."

"Malfoy," she sighed. "I did listen. You said you get your permanent personality at age six."

"Yes."

"And?"

"And. So. If your parents had known that when you were six, than maybe they could have erased your more asinine qualities and you wouldn't be such a nuisance to me."

She stood up, twisting her water bottle in her hands.

"Right, that's it. I'm done for the day."

He smirked at her.

"You haven't even smoked yet."

"I'm quitting."

"You haven't even been smoking for a month!"

"And in that month I haven't been running. Hence," she gestured down at her running uniform. "Why I am dressed this way."

"Oh, go fuck yourself."

"Goodbye, Malfoy."

When she left, he found that he wasn't in the mood to smoke either and simply sat for a while. Whenever he was alone he was forced to remember why he was here, in the place he didn't know with only Granger for company. It was now May; the old hag had come to visit him in March, which left him eleven months to fall in love. Currently, he had not even slept with someone, much less gone on a date, which really should have worried him but didn't.

Living without magic was difficult. It bore on him every day but at least since he started meeting up with Granger he didn't find himself in the pub early in the morning very often.

He cooked for himself every time he grew hungry. Food had developed a religious quality for him and while he ate he often liked to sit on the porch and look out at that same beautiful body of water that he had noticed the first night. Solitude was treating him well, but he couldn't say the same for his mother.

_**Hermione:**_

"This is your house? Really?"

"Just sit down and spare me the unnecessary comments."

"No, no. I'm…impressed. It's quite clean."

He rolled his eyes at her and took her jacket.

"It's too warm for a jacket, I don't know why you bother."

"What was that you said earlier about unnecessary comments?"

She took a seat around his kitchen table and examined the room. It was clean, like she had told him, but it was also more than that. The entrance of the house and the living room that she had walked through to get to the kitchen, were just as clean but not as…lived in. The difference between the rooms was significant in that way. One just had to walk in and they could tell that this was the most loved room.

"You going to make me something to eat?"

He looked over at her, warily dissecting her face for the obvious joke.

"No."

"Right, no, you wouldn't know how to do that would you? No servants around to cook your meals?"

"Go to hell."

"I'm already there, sitting in a chair that's hurting my ass."

"God damnit, Hermione. Why can't you just stop for one minute? I haven't even taken my shoes off yet."

The tone of his voice jolted her. It was so familiar but she couldn't place it.

"It's not like you don't pick at me first." So familiar…but implacable.

He banged his palm on the wall, the other hand yanking off his shoe.

"No, see, here's the difference. _You_ can't leave ANYTHING alone. Even after I told you to just stop, you kept going like a fucking battery."

She glared at him, her knees touching the leg of the table.

"Why am I here if you don't want me to be?"

"For fucking Christ's sake, Hermione. I didn't say I didn't want you here. Why do you always call yourself out as this unwanted creature? No one actually says they don't want you, but it's like you want them to not like you so you can have a…a reason to tell them why they _should_ like you!"

"That's-"

"True and you know it. So tell me. Is that why Weasel left you? Couldn't stand your bitching any longer?"

Her ears began to ring and everything else in the room became irrelevant. Her mind told her mouth to say, "Stop." But it never made it out. She felt like there was an endless amount of water pouring down her throat and she couldn't speak. She couldn't move. And that's when she knew someone else was going to have to see her fold into herself. Someone would be witness to this catastrophe that was her chemical makeup.

It was overcoming her now and she felt it crash down heavy and clean. Clear as crystal and right as rain.

**-x-**

"_I'm not happy, Hermione."_

_She froze. Was she unhappy? They had been fighting for months now. Sometimes the fights ended and they were ok. Other times, most times, they just weren't. But to hear Ron say this, out loud, was deafening. She was torn between running to the bedroom and just running from him in general._

_ "About like…work?"_

_ "Everything."_

_ "Can I help? I want-"_

_ I'm not happy _here_." _

_ She moved impatiently, her fingers twitching, her neck creaking. _

_ "I think… I don't know if I want to do this…anymore."_

_ The words hit her heavily and felt sharper than she had expected them to. They took the wind out of her and made her reel. She bent and looked at her feet. Her toes were SeaFoam colored, which used to make her smile. Now she'd never look at it the same._

_ "Sometimes Hermione, I just think that…I mean, it all comes down to if two people should be together."_

_ "You don't…think we should be together?"_

_ "I don't know 'Mione. I don't-"_

_ "Don't call me that, you _know_ I hate that."_

_ "Don't you see? Don't you? I mean the way we are now…no! Hermione, I don't want to be with you like this."_

_ And then she was sitting on the couch, unable to leave but unwilling to stay. He sat down on the opposite end and put his head in his hands._

_ "Can you at least give me a reason?" She spoke into her hands. He paused. Looked at her. There was a relaxed expression on his face…like someone who was finally coming clean. _

_ "With my new job at work I've been getting to know people, and I just feel like…like I'm rediscovering myself. Me. I haven't been _me_ or felt like myself in…I don't know." Her mouth twitched, frozen on unspoken protests. "I think I used to be myself around you. But it's like you've been trying to kill it ever since."_

_ "I'm not trying to kill you, Ron." The words felt broken and lost in their remains._

_ "But that's what it feels like. And it's not just you, I'm sure I'm doing it as well."_

_ "I'm me around you!" A lie. She hadn't been herself around _anyone_ lately._

_ "No."_

_ He moved closer to her; he put a hand on her knee and she jumped._

_ "Don't-"_

_ "I was just-"_

_ "-You can't-"_

_ "Ok."_

_ She swallowed and looked around. She felt like a deer in headlights. She felt more exposed than she ever had before and maybe that was because this was it. She knew that this was the end of them and her with him, and every little thing in between. There would be no more little red hairs in her brush, or gobs of toothpaste on the sink faucet. No one would leave cum stains in the shower or drink the last of the milk without asking. _

_ Before she had felt nothing. No love, no happiness. Then there was anger and even then that was a short fuse. Now she felt everything and it was all at once. She couldn't bear to be near him. She apparated and lay on the floor of her flat. _

_ She heard in her head her mother telling her that you never knew what you had until it was gone, but Hermione knew what she had lost before she even lost him. He hadn't been hers in a long time. She hadn't even been her own for a long time._

_The next day he had tried to come in. He told her he wanted to try and fix things. But she didn't answer the door and left wards up on her flat so he couldn't pop in. And now she was here. Now she missed him, every day and night and all the moments surrounding that. She ached in places that could hold no more ache._

"Hey." And then she remembered she was somewhere else. That she was with someone else. "You ok?"

His voice sounded funny with concern in it. As if he was unsure whether or not he actually meant the question.

"I'm…" she stood up. "I'm…"

"Yes?"

"Empty."

_**Draco:**_

"You have _so _many issues."

"Less than you, I'd be willing to bet." Hermione huffed and took her pack from Draco's lap.

"Hey, I wanted those!"

"Sharing is for people who deserve it."

"I deserve a lot more than you give me credit for."

"That is not-"

"Don't argu-"

"I'll do what I want."

And just like that, she had made him boiling mad, once again, without even trying. He couldn't stand the way she sat there, judging him. She would look over every couple minutes and cast her gaze all over him and he knew…he knew without asking, what she was thinking.

"I thought you quit…again." He smirked.

She flicked her cigarette on his knee. The ashes blew off with the wind. It was beautiful that early afternoon in May, and he was glad he had someone to share it with, even if it was only Granger.

"Tell me something. Anything."

She made a sound of contentment, but he knew she was thinking.

"When I was young, before I ever got my letter to Hogwarts, my parent's took me to The British Museum. I remember it because there were lots of bones and I thought…_how can there be bones but no skin?_ And no matter how many time my Mum told me that it was because they were dead, I didn't understand still."

"Really positive story. Thanks for sharing."

"Will you let me finish? No, you're not listening, don't shake your-" She crossed her arms and turned from him.

"Fine, go at it."

"I wanted to be an Archaeologist." She mumbled.

"What?"

"Someone who studies and digs up bones. You know, like Dinosaurs."

"No, I don't know. And don't care."

She opened and closed her mouth several times before huffing irritably and then scooting away from him. He sighed and put his hand over hers for a second.

"Sorry."

And then he took it away, but not before thinking that it was the first time he had really touched someone in…years.

_**Hermione:**_

"I want to show you something."

"What, no smoking today?"

"As charming as it is to sit next to someone and slowly develop lung cancer with them, I was thinking today we could get some fresh air. Together. Maybe."

He hummed in her direction.

"Hmm."

She took his arm firmly and envisioned it in her mind. The sound of the water lapping at itself like a cat; the flowers, which had multiplied since the beginning of spring. Then there was a noise like an airplane taking off and the next thing she could recognize was…sun. The sound of sun, which came through her eyelids and burst out of her skin.

"What…"

He was at a loss for words, and she knew it immediately. Although he was not a very feeling person, she knew he would appreciate this place as much as she did. He had given her a lot the past month, and she wanted to give something back.

Urges like that-towards Malfoy of all people- were becoming stronger the more time she spent with him. They didn't have very long conversations but the silence spoke for them both. It twisted itself around them like a serpent and held on to their clothes long after they each had parted. She had begun to live her life around those moments, barely moving or breathing until she knew he would be there. At their wall…on their floor… in their shade.

"It's a National Park." She said simply.

"Ah." He cleared his throat. It was quiet for a long time. The sun began to dip in the sky, sending shards of color across the fields. "Thank you."

And those words sent so much confidence through her. They told her that, for the first time since before Ron, she had done something _right_. She hadn't made someone mad or angry or tired and beaten. She had given Malfoy something to be grateful for. She was satisfied.

She slipped her palm into his and let their fingers ghost each other; reflect the owners feelings like a mirror.

And do you know what? He let her keep it there for one, two, three minutes before pulling away and stuffing it in his pocket, a slight smile on his face.

_**Draco:**_

"So why didn't you?"

"Why didn't I…?"

"Become an…Archaeologist?"

"Oh." She chewed on her lip and he watched her.

"Never mind. You don't have to-"

"No it's ok because-"

"I didn't mean to…"

"You didn't." She sighed and blew a curl from her face. "I guess…well, I went to Hogwarts. And…and I loved it, I did…but there was always part of me that wondered, what if I didn't get a letter? What university would I be at right now? Would I even still want to deal with bones?"

There was that familiar silence, which had become like a family pet. Loved, spoiled and barging in on all the wrong moments.

"You shouldn't have given up your dreams."

She smiled and turned to him. He watched as the curve of her top lip pulled up and exposed a bit of happy white.

"Going soft on me?"

He shrugged, his mind turning. He felt like a sock that had gone inside out in the wash.

"Just…then you wouldn't be here…you know how much you annoy me."

"Yeah. I know."


	6. Church

**Disclaimer: ****Nothing is mine, all is J.K Rowlings**

**A/N: And now, it is time for me to beg. I know there are quite a few of you who have added me to favorite stories/author and story alert list, but it still remains that I only have 21 reviews. And while I am VERY grateful for all that has been given to me, it is common knowledge that a story won't be read unless there are a decent amount of reviews. So please, take five seconds to review this. **

**Also, thank you my lovely reviewers of Chapter 5. I love you all so much and I hope to give you what you're looking for in this chapter. Sorry it isn't that long.**

**May(still)**

_**Draco:**_

"When…do you think you could…"

"I hate it when you do that. Spit it out, Granger."

"I just wanted to ask you…what you want to do. Or are doing. Or even if it's what you want to do. You know?"

He laughed and was surprised at how good it felt. He noticed she had a terrible habit of wanting to have tact but approaching it the wrong way. It had grown on him, but he wasn't sure when that moment had come around. The same moment, he guessed, that he had started to appreciate the flick of her eyes when he stood to leave before she had finished smoking. He had also picked up the way she moved her fingers across her cheek as soon as a hair brushed into her eyes and how she bit her thumbnail when she didn't want to speak anymore.

There were moments-few, but still there- when he wondered if she picking up things about him as well. There were sparse words between them when he wasn't initiating conversation, and often the only sounds were cloth rustling as hands moved to lips, arms to knees and heads turning to watch the silent smoking partner.

"So." He sighed.

"You don't have to answer. I-"

"Well, give me an official question first."

She picked at that nail again and he wondered if it was a nervous habit as well. He thought, for a second, about if he made her uncomfortable. If that was the reason why she talked to him in the first place. But her presence, to him, had become soothing like a balm. She still irritated him, but in the back of his head, he wanted to know all of her thoughts…the way she worked, if only so he could say he did.

He had never understood someone before, and that bothered him. He didn't like admitting that, but the truth was his life had become very centered around himself. He liked that she was in his circle now. It was different…unfamiliar.

"Do you like your job?"

"No." He said it without thinking. He wanted to be honest with her. As far as he could tell, she had been honest with him.

"Oh." She drew in a breath, unbelieving.

"Well then, what…why are you there?"

He didn't know how to answer this but he opened his mouth and words began to emerge.

"It's something to do, it's people to see. It's a party on a Sunday night with people all more important than me, and yet I am the most _powerful_ when I step in the room. It's an event on a Friday night, because I hate Friday's, I really do. I hate public restrooms, and taking a shit on seats that a thousand butts have already touched. And I hate restaurants. I bring my own silver ware and people think I'm rude, but the truth is I can't force myself to put a fork or a spoon in my mouth that so many people before me have used. And, well, it makes me. I don't like that, but it is what it is, all the same."

"You-"

"And another thing." He stood, flicked his cigarette with his index finger and sucked in. "I hate my office." He breathed out and let himself be completely surrounded before continuing. "Even when I have the biggest office, it's still just that! It's always only a little square room that I'm required to do business in. I thought, growing up, that cubicles and rooms and swivel chairs were all things _Muggles_ had in store for them, but it's us too. We're not so different. Hardly different at all. We're all these…hamsters, turning on our wheels every day but not going anywhere and it's disgusting to me. We live and breathe in our own _shit_ all the time_._"

He looked down and she was there, staring back up at him, her eyes wide and lips thin.

"The world, Granger," he breathed. "Is so fucking _big_ and yet we _still…_every day, we still try and put ourselves into little boxes."

_**Hermione:**_

The water was only lukewarm, now, but she emerged her head and listened. _Thump-thump. Thump-thump-thump. _

She held herself down for as long as she could, just listening to herself be here…now.

_See? You are _alive!

_Thump. Thump. Thump. Thump._

Her lungs were going to burst but she needed to hear it for just one more second.

_Thump..thump…thump._

It was getting slower, her brain trying to find oxygen, and she almost took a breath right then, still in the water. She wondered how it would feel to die. To let yourself just go and float off, uncaring of anything but the journey from your body.

Her head broke the surface and then she was sitting, water rolling off her back like beads-like pearls. Her heart was racing, but she was still here.

And she didn't know if that was such a good thing, anymore.

_**Draco:**_

__"You forgot."

"N-no." she fumbled in her windbreaker pocket, searching for the fifth time and coming up with nothing.

"Just forget it."

"I'm…I'm sorry." She pulled on the ends of her hair and swallowed. "I just…I wanted…I don't know what's going on right now…"

Her lip started to tremble and he should have known what that meant but until she was crying, he hadn't known it would lead to this.

Her whole body seemed broken. She cried, heaving with pains he couldn't see, until she was doubled over and he just stood, watching her. And then she took a step towards him, as if she were going to lean on him. But he didn't do that, he didn't comfort people and so he stepped back quickly. She stopped crying for a second and looked at him. Wiping her eyes, she asked, "Why?"

He blinked and searched around him for the person the question was intended for.

"Why, Malfoy?" She was shaking uncontrollably, as if crying had made her cold. "Why won't you be here for me?"

She took another step towards him. He stiffened and crossed his arms like a barrier.

"Please." She begged. A tear leaked out of the corner of her eye and she took another step, putting herself right in front of him.

She was so little. Even with all of that hair, she was only up to his chest, and that was with shoes on. She made herself look up at him and he felt like he was looking down at a broken toy he no longer wanted but had to deal with anyway. It was him who approached her that day in the market. Him who had sat down and talked to her about the price of making soda and _him_ who gave her that first smoke. And now, it was him, who had to do this as well, and thinking about it like a sequence didn't make it so hard. He didn't even know why she was sad, and it didn't matter. His arms unfolded and then curled around her. Her body molded into his and it was so awkward he wanted immediately to pull away, but he let her cry. And after his legs began to get stiff and his long arms felt locked with fatigue, he wondered, when exactly, he had picked up on this new thing about Granger-that her hair smelled like spun sugar and her tears were cold as ice.

_**Hermione:**_

___Harry,_

And then her quill was scratching out his name, as if he might simply know, just from the way she wrote her name, that everything was wrong. What to say? How to apologize for things she knew deserved no forgiveness. To simply go to Ireland and not tell her friends…to leave wards in the apartment so no one could invade…to quit her job…it was all so sudden and _wrong_. She knew that now, she could see it. But how could something that let her breathe for the first time in months be all that bad? She started again.

_Harry,_

_I am here, in this beautiful place, with flowers and food and blankets that feel like the underside of Buckbeak. In the mornings, I see the sun rise into the sky and it makes me wonder why I got a flat with a window facing the wall of another building. It makes me wonder what I was doing with my life in general, and I hope that you can forgive me for leaving it all behind. _

_I miss you like I've never missed anyone before. I think about you, all the time._

_Remember that time the three of us went to the fair with the Dursley's? Horrible day. And we met up with Dudley afterwards and he was sticky from candy, but we all talked and you told us later that you thought of him like a brother. You said you could forgive him for seventeen years, because that's what family does?_

_You're my family, Harry. And I hope that these past two months haven't made this not possible anymore. I hope that you can forgive me, eventually, and let me back in._

_Don't look for me. I'll come home soon enough. _

_Don't tell Ron, _

_Hermione_

_**Draco:**_

In his nightmare, he saw the old woman again. She was dirtier, and he was repulsed. Fighting the urge to hold his nose, he opened his mouth. He could taste her, but he had to get the words out.

"Take it back. Please, I can't do this anymore."

She was silent, watching him through black beaded eyes. She motioned for him and he came quickly. Her hot breath filled his ears and as his stomach rolled he heard four words.

"You are not finished."

He pulled back and shook his head.

"You are wrong. People do love me. My mother loves me."

Her laughter was cruel, loud and unforgiving.

"And who are you to say that what you're mother has for you is love? It is obligation, at best. Do you even know what love is, Draco Malfoy?"

Spit flew from between her broken teeth. Her hair fell in her face like an old, moth eaten curtain.

"Do you know what it means, to be half of a whole? How could you? You have never given, so why should you receive?"

He was at a loss for words. He had never thought of love as something he had to reciprocate. Love was affection, was it not? Affection meant someone adoring the other, not a two way street.

"It will be as though the sky aligns with the earth. Then you will receive your magic. Only then."

_**Hermione: **_

The Church had a high ceiling, and the sides sloped inwards to cradle four beautiful stained glass windows. The pews, though few, were long and already held several people.

She felt like she was invading something very person, and wasn't sure she belonged. The feeling grew as a young woman and her family walked by and knelt to pray.

She hadn't prayed in years; she couldn't remember the last time she had even simply believed in whatever was up there. She had just woken this morning feeling like this was where she had to be.

The first time she had seen the Church was when she apparated outside in the graveyard, by accident. It was still cold, then, and she had gone inside to figure out where she was and warm up. Even after she left, the beauty and simplicity of the building had stuck with her through all of her other travels the past two months.

But before, the Church had been isolated and quiet. Now, it was as though each person had opened themselves up to each other and for whatever reason, this compelled her to sit in the corner of a pew and close her eyes. She didn't open them all mass. When communion came, she remained still, letting people step over her on the way out. Then mass was over and she opened her eyes. It was bright and beautiful and she felt like she was seeing clearly for the first time. She took a step outside, letting the cool air rush over her. She didn't realize how warm it was inside.

"Hey."

And then the sharpness was gone. In its place was a blonde head and those flat eyes.

"Malfoy, what-"

He took her arm and pulled her, around the graveyard and to…a wall. It was their wall; the wall of the back of a Church. She gasped.

"The entire time we've been smoking at a Church? We…this whole time?"

He nodded. She shook her head, disbelieving.

"Granger, don't do that. Don't think of it as a bad thing. You always do that."

She hummed and brought her thumb up to her lips. Under her nails smelled like smoke, no matter how many showers she took or how many times she washed her hands. When she would bring her hands up to her face when she slept, she would smell it and immediately be brought back to them that day. She would rewind and let herself play back their conversations until she was sleeping.

"I sleep…now." He cocked his head and looked down at her. "Since we started…whatever…I can sleep. I used to wake up but now, I sleep."

_**Draco:**_

The noise was deafening. A crack split into the air and then there was heaviness on him. He couldn't breathe and the weight shifted. Through the darkness he made out shapes; the curve of a lip, the point of a chin. He brought his hand up to where he thought the head would be and felt…curls. Soft, thin curls but lots of them.

"Granger?"

"Do you ever…feel like there is a hole in your chest?"

"What?" His eyes were adjusting, her face becoming clearer each time she shifted. Her legs were crossed and she sat to the side of him. He was half sitting, half lying, looking at her and wondering what had brought her to him.

"Sometimes I feel like everything that's happened to me…good, bad, ugly and kind all happen because I am lacking. Like these events come to me because they're each trying to fill a hole. But…I'm…"

_I'm…I'm…empty._

His hand felt the back of her neck first, smooth and soft with tiny hairs. He pulled her face closer to his and he let his mouth connect upon hers. It was a sharp kiss and equally bruising. It was demanding and rough-neither felt the need to be gentle with the other.

He knew she felt empty, and he knew he couldn't fill her. That wasn't the point; it wasn't the reason either. He kissed her hard, his mouth moving in different shapes around hers and he thought in his head that he didn't want love, just this. Only this.

She left without stopping, his mouth forming around the ghost of her lips. The heat of her body left his and he couldn't fall back asleep.


	7. Please

**End of May**

_**Hermione:**_

"It feels weird. This entire time we've been at a Church."

"Stop changing the subject. We need to talk about-"

Her head turned sharply. She looked at him and concentrated on the breath leaving her nose and entering again. She focused on the sensation of air in her lungs.

"As far as I'm concerned…it never happened."

Something that was either confusion or anger flashed across his face, but he didn't bring it up again.

_**Draco:**_

The end of May felt different from the end of other months. It was almost summer time and he knew that responsibilities at home were growing larger and more prominent. He didn't know how to ignore them any longer, but leaving wasn't an option. After all, how could he take care of the Malfoy estate with no magic? No contact had come from any family…no one from the office wondered where he was. Yet, he was not denied money when he went to the wizarding bank in Ireland, _Cremlins. _He was one of the most powerful men in the wizarding world, and yet…he was completely invisible.

He thought about the kiss all the time. It had been a dirty impulse to kiss her, and he knew it. And yet, there she had been on his bed and they were half awake, vulnerable and lacking. For a moment, just a second in time, he had been needed.

She never brought it up. A week had passed, and as May drew to a close, she kept silent in general. He didn't ask questions and she didn't answer his quiet ones.

_**Hermione:**_

Hermione explored the concept of being a warm body. When she first heard the term, her and Ron and Harry had all been sitting in the Gryffindor common room, their toes by the fire and arms all connected. Ron had been seeing Lavender for a month or two at that point, which broke her heart, but the way he told it to them that night, she was "just a warm body." Later she would consider if she was just that to him their entire relationship, but she didn't think it mattered so much these days.

Not since Malfoy kissed her. Not since she realized how much she liked it. But he didn't make a move to kiss her again, and this struck her as cowardly. In a way it was like finishing a book, or rather, not finishing it at all. You saw that the book wasn't going in the direction you wanted it to, or it simply didn't interest you, so you closed it and put it away for good. Was she a boring book? Did her disappearing that night scare him from reading the end?

But she had a thought, which gave her hope, and it was this: recently, Malfoy had been bringing Camels to their smoking sessions, and he didn't complain though she knew he found them short and sour.

She watched him carefully, raising the tube to his lips and closing his mouth around it. She imagined leaning over and kissing him as smoke came out in wisps, but she stayed still. And then he was looking at her, breathing short breaths, but he did nothing as well. They both did nothing for a long time, and it made her feel just as empty as she did before that night.

_**Draco:**_

"You would never jump. I can tell."

She huffs and throws her cigarette over the edge of the cliff. They are both sitting, side-to-side, on one of the Cliffs of Moher, 214 meters above the Atlantic Ocean. Their legs and feet dangle, but she wouldn't _jump_, not for anything in the world.

"You wouldn't jump either. You'd die."

"No, I'll die from smoking; from life in general. You seem to be dying from something else entirely, and much more slowly. Which is why you wouldn't jump. You like to prolong your own misery."

"I do _not. _Why do you even…how can you just say things like that so seriously?" She raises her leg in the air, looking at her foot against the sky and then put it back down, watching it dangle where moss drops to water. "And _anyway_, I am not dying."

"Then kiss me."

She felt her whole body get warm and then his arm was around her, his hand gripping her right hip, pulling her towards him, and suddenly she was dropping off over the edge, her heart sinking. _He's going to kill me_, but instead he continued pulling her and soon she was sitting on his lap.

"Malfoy…Malfoy, stop." She could feel how close she was to the edge. Her whole body shook. "Please… I don't think you…I hate heights!"

But he was smiling at her, tracing his thumb over the sharp cut of her jaw, his mouth gently pressing against her neck. He bit, softly, and then sucked and she arched back, moaning in a sort of primal way she didn't know she had in her. When she opened her eyes she saw the sky. She knew she was tilted off over the edge, but she wasn't scared. She was almost lying on air, but she wasn't falling because Malfoy had his arms tightened on her. She felt safe, but she felt alive, and this strange combination of two things that never collided for her caused her to sit back up to look at him.

The sun came from behind her and hit his face. His hair was white, just like she remembered it to be, but his eyes were not gray, nor were they flat. They were blue, and blindingly so. They were light, like ice, burning a cold hole in her chest. She kissed him because she wanted to, because she had to, because she needed it. He responded immediately, pushing a hand through her curls. It sent a shiver down her spine and into her bones. Her mouth pushed harder against his and he bit on her bottom lip as she pulled away.

"Don't stop." His voice was husky with raw need.

"Here?" she squeaked. "But…there are-"

"There's no one."

His mouth moved quickly, finding the spot on her neck he somehow already knew was her favorite, trailing down to her collarbone, his teeth skimming her skin as he went.

"Malfoy _please_, I can't-OH_. Fucking… hell._"

He had moved his hand beneath her shirt and his fingers lightly tapped up and down her ribcage. Her blood was too hot, threatening to explode out of her and she was swelling, her breath catching in her throat.

She pushed him with an open palm and he fell back. Her knees pressed against his sides and his mouth opened in pleasure.

"I don't think I do want to stop."

His eyes were closed but as he smiled up at her she could swear she had already memorized what he looked like when they were open.

"Then don't."

_**Draco:**_

Hermione slammed into him so hard he could feel the tension in his head move around like toys in a box. Her fingers were everywhere; in his hair, down his chest, digging in his skin. It doesn't seem real, but he finds his hands balling on her shirt, tugging more and more until it's over her head and on the ground. She pulls and he pushes, landing on his bed.

The feel of her beneath him is unbearable. Her exposed skin touches his arms and he needs to feel the warmth _more_ so he fumbles, gripping his shirt and trying to pull over his head.

"Here…" she mumbles, breathing quickly, gripping and pulling with him.

"No, I-"

She gets it off, holding it in her hands for a moment, victorious, before flinging it on the ground. He presses down onto her eagerly, and her moan of acknowledgment meets his own, filling the air. She slides up, bites his shoulder and he's hard instantly. He can feel the length of himself pressing on her stomach, and she's so much smaller than him once again. He's almost forgotten how very little she is, but she's not breaking right now. He's seen her broken before, and it didn't look like this. Nothing like this.

She bites him again, reminding him where he is and he leans down, cradling her head in his hands and explores her mouth. He likes this. He's had woman before but none as vulnerable as her, and for a moment he forgets that he's supposed to hate her and just lets go. He commits her to his memory, instead of hating her, and finds it is more enjoyable.

She pulls away from him, but he moves his lips to her neck, wanting-needing- to have some part of himself connected to her still. She arches back, her bottom lip catching under her top.

"Don't be quiet." He murmurs into the heat of her.

She pushes herself into the sheets, sinking deeper and further away from him, but he follows. She's looking past his head, at a spot on the ceiling, and it's funny that she won't look at him when all _he_ can see is her. He wants to bring her back, and without much hesitation or thought his fingers unsnap her bra and his mouth goes around her breast.

"_Oh_."

She breathes it out, her body pushing up to meet him firmly. They're together and it's so hot, so hot, in the room.

She's tugging off his pants before he consider doing it himself, but kicks them off when she's pulled them down as far as she can reach. His arousal raises and presses more firmly against her. His groan is searching, needing, wanting. She responds by slipping her hand under the leg of his boxers and wrapping it around him tightly.

"Make me cum, Granger." She pulls up the length of him, pausing at the head to gather moisture, and then slicked back down again, slowly. "Faster."

She begins to pump in quicker strokes, his heart thudding in his cave of a chest. Her fingers begin to stroke one at a time and he shudders. The blood is rushing to his head and more than anything he just wants…

His hands are moving quickly, his fingers unbuttoning her pants and sliding them down to her knees. He roughly pulls her knickers down and then he pushes inside her. Their togetherness is intoxicating. He sinks in to the hilt, feeling her walls and pushing down on her with his hands. He pulls out halfway and then sinks again. He gets slower and slower, each time he moves until he hears her whimper, softly, and knows he's achieved what he had not had until then. Dominance. Power. Control.

"Malfoy…please."

His name on her lips, those little pink lips, sent him reeling. He slammed into her, quicker and harder, hips snapping, flesh pounding on flesh. She cries out first, her hands balled in tight fists at her side. Her legs tightened around his sides, squeezing, and then he's done for. He feels parts of him empty inside of her, and he's never felt so tired and satisfied.

He only remains inside of her for a moment before rolling off and laying on his back.

Neither says anything. It's very quiet. He's not sure he wants her to stay, but for once he can't find the nerve to be rude and ask her to leave. She makes the decision to get up on her own and he watches her pull on clothes quickly from the corner of his eye. She's at the doorframe now, looking at him looking at the ceiling.

"So…well…"

He says nothing; he makes no move to indicate she should go or stay. She fidgets for a bit before grabbing her wand off the floor and sliding it in her pocket. She doesn't say goodbye and he falls asleep as soon as she's left.

_**Hermione:**_

Her whole body was sore and she didn't feel like leaving her bed. She drifted in and out of sleep, her hand over her heart to make sure it was still beating. She knew had broken some sort of law or moral by having sex with Malfoy; even more so because she enjoyed it.

Her dreams were full of color-of the Cliffs and of his sheets and skin. There was a feeling inside of her and she couldn't place it, but she tried anyways. The feeling made her think of her parents. Of the last time she saw them, really saw them, before the war. They had bought her new robes and taken her out to eat at her favorite Muggle restaurant. While the waitress passed around salads, she looked up from her plate and her parents were looking at each other. It wasn't disgusting and it wasn't showy. What it was, she knew, was a casual affection for each other that did not falter but rather _grew_ every time they laid eyes on one another. Her heart had swelled and she loved them so much.

She had been so…full. And she was full now. It wasn't because she loved Malfoy-certainly not. Rather…she found that having sex with him had given her control over her life again. As if by making the decision to fuck him like she had never fucked Ron, she had gained a bit of power in her life. She chose to lie beneath him, and this choice made her…full.

**- X -**

"You've been busy lately."

Hermione didn't look up from her bowl of soup. Her spoon cradled broth and she tilted it slightly so that it ran in a stream.

"I suppose."

"With Ireland?"

She couldn't answer. Ireland had become more than a series of places to see. She remembered the National Park, The Cliffs of Moher, the Church and the wall. All had Malfoy's face somewhere in them and she couldn't untie the two from each other.

"I saw the Cliff's the other day."

Madge smiled at that, filling Hermione's cup with more water.

"Did you now?"

She only smiled back at her, taking a bite of her food. She was gaining weight, her sides filling comfortably into her pants. Food had begun to taste to her again and she was more eager to eat these days.

"I loved it. He was-it was…beautiful."

Her eyes widened at Hermione's slip of tongue. In her mind she saw the crystal of Malfoy's eyes as he had faced her, the haze of gray they had turned when he was above her. A stirring in her stomach came about and she willed herself not to think about it in such a public place.

"You're sweet on someone."

It wasn't a question but Hermione felt the need to answer for herself.

"Not sweet on someone. He's…he's awful, really. Really rude and…he's such a prick."

"Dip your hair in ink, did he?" She joked. Hermione smiled.

"Something like that."

**- X -**

"I'm really not hungry."

He smiled back at her, a quirky grin that left no room for arguing.

"Right, so, if you aren't hungry then what was that noise your stomach made when I was unzipping your pants?"

She blushed. They had been very close to having sex when every part of her seemed to protest in some way. Her leg cramped, her eyes glazed over and her stomach growled, just loud enough to be embarrassing.

"Stop. It isn't funny."

"You're extra bossy when you're embarrassed, did you know that?"

She scowled at him, her eyes dark. He was bustling about the kitchen in a peculiar way, but it was familiar all the same. The casual way he reached for pans and items; opening and closing the fridge and various cabinets…it was as though he had been doing it his whole life. It reminded her of her home and of her family.

"So…so you're making me food?"

'No, Granger. I'm making a painting. You can take it home with you if you'd like." She huffed and opened her mouth to bite back but he silenced her. "Make yourself useful. Come here."

She raised her chin and glared at him.

"Why should I _help_ you?"

"Because, as I seem to recall, I am making you food." He raised an eyebrow and she sighed heavily.

"Well, ok."

He motioned to the sink and she turned it on, letting her hands rest in the water. The soap smelled like lavender and the sweetness of this made her smirk when she was sure he wasn't looking. As she was drying her hands she looked over and he was standing at the stove expertly moving around food in a frying pan. It was such a domestic thing to do; something she would have never expected from him. She wondered when he had learned to cook and if he liked it

"Why are you looking at me like that, Granger?"

She blinked and raised her eyes to him. He looked back at the food quickly to make sure it wasn't burning and then glanced back, waiting. They had reached the point with each other where when one asked the question the other answered without objecting. They didn't know how this came to be, but smoking with someone for three months maybe had something to do with it.

"My Mum used to have this…little box that you would open and there would be a collection of recipes in it. When I was younger she would shake the box and then tell me to pick one out for her to make that night." She smiled. "When I was seven I was particularly found of spaghetti and she always pretended to be shocked when I pulled that recipe out."

He didn't say anything, maybe because he already knew how that story ended. She was grateful.

"Well we aren't having spaghetti tonight I'm afraid. And I don't use recipes."

She wrinkled her nose and looked at him curiously.

"No recipes? But…what…how do you know something will taste good?"

"Like sex, it's just something that comes naturally." He winked and she felt herself blush.

"What can I do?"

He handed her a small bottle of what looked like shaven acorns.

"Put a little of that in the first pan and stir."

She tilted the bottle into the pan and the smell rose to meet her immediately. It was a spicy smell; an earthly smell. She picked up the wooden spoon and pushed around the items, carefully inspecting each one for burns.

"What is this?"

He was pulling out a pot and filling it with water. As he put it on the stove it hissed where water lingered.

"It's my first time making this actually, so I'm not sure."

She thought he was joking but as he poured rice in the pot he made no joking gestures. She peered in the pan as the items made angry sounds and caught a mushroom, broccoli, string carrots and a few other vegetables. It was like a stir-fry of sorts.

"You can sit, I have it." He took the spoon from her and seemed to move faster and more efficiently than she did. She felt embarrassed again and stood to the side. She had never been…_inferior _to Malfoy in anything before. It was unnerving to know he was in charge for the night.

"Hey…Malfoy." She walked over to him slowly.

"Mmm."

She took her hand, slipped it up his cheek and around his neck, pulling him down to her. She pressed her lips, which were a little dry, against his and he responded eagerly. The spoon dropped from his hand and hit the floor with a clang. She pulled her lips away giving a little popping noise and he tried to pull her back but she turned her cheek.

He was taller than her, which Ron was as well, but there was never this much of a difference. She stood on her toes and pressed her lips against his neck. His hands wrapped and knotted themselves in her hair, sending a chill down the nape of her neck. She pulled him down again and moved up his throat in open-mouthed kisses, occasionally dragging her tongue up in between and tasting his skin. It was salty sweet, like regrets and past lovers. His lips parted and he breathed hot air on her forehead. Hs hands were still in her hair, not moving or feeling, just standing in front of her.

She moved down again, pressing her lips more firmly on his skin, the warmth seeping into her lips. At the base of his throat she opened her mouth and sucked on a piece of skin. The groan the came after that was deep and rich; he moved quickly.

His hands pulled out of her hair and moved to her hips, gripping them firmly. He lifted her up and put her on the island, which he had just cleaned this morning. It still smelled like lemon cleaner and soapy water.

His hands were everywhere and she felt like she was burning. His grip became tighter on her hips and she wrapped her legs around his. She felt him pressed against her and smiled. He froze.

"Maybe not tonight." He whispered and turned awkwardly from her.

She stayed on the island, watching him and waiting for him to turn around and tell her he was joking. No such moment came.

"I'm just going to…" She hopped down, the balls of her feet making a soft thud on the floor. He didn't turn to face her but simply nodded and continued cooking.

She walked over to the bathroom and turned on the light, shutting the door behind her. With wary feet she made her way to the sink and looked up at her reflection. He had pulled hair from her ponytail and it hung around her face messily. Her mascara and eyeliner were smeared in streaks and her lips were swollen, reminding her of a thirsty plant. She turned on the water and cupped water in her fingers. She pressed her face into her palms and the water felt cool.

When she looked up again water was dripping down her face. She ripped a piece of toilet paper from the roll next to the toilet and carefully blotted her throat and face. Her pinky moved under her eyes, meticulously swiping and cleaning up their mistakes.

"Dinner is ready."


	8. Hostile

_**June**_

_**Hermione:**_

When Hermione opened her eyes she noticed a feeling before sight. Her arms rose in slight gooseflesh and wisps of curls blew from her face. She sat up and stretched her arms above her head. A sleeve of blue slipped down her arm and she frowned at it, curious. _Where did this come from?_ And then her mouth opened in a silent _Ohh._

The previous night came back at her in rushes of flesh and sensation. The sweatshirt must have been Malfoy's and as she pulled on clothes in a rush she must have pulled his on by mistake. She tried to remember what she was wearing-what she had thrown on the floor in haste, but could not remember.

That was the whole purpose of Malfoy and her. They came together to forget. That was their simple purpose. As she looked down at the light blue covering her to her knees she wondered how she could have mistaken this to be hers, even in the rush of leaving. It swamped her. The breeze from the window slid in again and wrapped around her. A smell lifted to her nose and for a moment she was without thought. The smell was both one thing and many things at once. Cinnamon, soap…oil…

In the same way that she mindlessly bit her nails and tore off cuticles, Hermione wiggled out of her jeans and slipped off her bra. She was surrounded by the smell of him and her fingers curled under the too long sleeves. She pulled the bottom of the shirt over her knees and smiled.

**-X-**

Sometimes she forgot about it, but it rarely lasted for longer than a minute. It would overcome her and she would shiver as though her very bones were carved from ice. She lay burrowed under her blankets and thought about seeing Malfoy but knew that as simple as they tried to make sex, it wasn't as simple as arguing and smoking had been. She wasn't sure they could go back to just the first and so she got out of bed and dressed. Her hair was stubborn but she managed to yank it back in a braid.

Then the room was void and Hermione Granger had apparated to The Burrow.

**-X-**

No one was home. There had been a time, while they were all still in school, when there had _always_ been someone and the only time anyone had let themselves sit still was for sleep.

Not ready to leave, she stepped up the stairs and ran her hands on the walls. Moving pictures waved and welcomed her back. She moved with the steps of someone who knew the very air around her. Hand on the doorknob, arm pushing inwards, she walked in.

She could hardly breathe she was so sad. She remembered that first week after they broke up when she thought the decision was the easiest she had ever made; she saw now that she was wrong. She missed him: his bed, his hair and his hands. She missed the way her head could rest on his shoulder when she faced him, her cheek fitting in the little space between his face and his neck.

"Hermione?"

She fell on the floor, spinning too quickly. Above her a hand reached down and she took it.

"Ron."

His hair was dripping wet as though he had just come in from the rain. When she listened hard enough, past both of their heavy breathing, she could in fact hear the patters of angry welts. He had his Quidditch uniform on except for his shoes.

"You came back to me."

A clump of hair was molded to his face, dark from rain. She stepped forward and pushed it out of the way. As her hand moved back to her hip he grabbed it and held on. His hand cupped hers and with the other he gently opened her tightly clenched digits to expose her palm. He kissed it, right in the middle. Her eyes closed and she tried to wake herself up but this wasn't a flashback.

"Where have you been? It's been months…"

"I can't te-"

He kissed her, catching her bottom lip in his top one. He pulled away, gently holding on with his teeth before letting go and brushing his thumb over the tip of her nose.

"Ok."

She swallowed and her throat hurt.

"Take off your clothes." She is surprised at her voice and how angry it sounds.

His hands, those big warm hands, yank at his sticky wet shirt and pull it off. Her lips press against his chest and her tongue licks up, tasting the familiar flesh. She rips at his chest leaving little scratches and bites as she moves around. He groans and it's the best sound that she's ever heard.

She breaks the button of his pants and hears it skitter around somewhere on the other side of the room.

"Help me." Her voice is scratchy but she can hear the desperation clearly. There is no time to be disgusted however when he pulls the pants off so violently that they rip down the side in ragged tears.

He's already so hard and she takes him in her mouth quickly. Her tongue wraps around him and she sucks soft as she reaches the top and then harder as she goes down. His hips move back and forth with her mouth, in out in out.

She releases him and he's shaking with need. Her shirt comes off and then her pants are on the ground. He fumbles and tears at the band of her underwear carelessly. They are naked in front of each other and his skin is so deliciously warm. She misses that warmth.

"Hermione…" he traces her cheek bones with his fingertips. She shakes her head. Stays silent.

He pulls her and they fall on his bed. She moves down and onto him easily. They both gasp out together. She's slow at first, unsure and expecting him to throw her off in anger. But he looks up at her and smacks his lips, taking her in and looking at her like she'll disappear any second. And she will, she knows she will. So she moves faster, sliding up and down until they are both close.

He grips her hips tightly, his eyes wide and slightly glazed. She stops and looks down at him. He's alert now and confused.

"Fuck me, Ron." She demands and he flips her over without thinking and pounds into her.

It's so angry, she can feel it.

"Why did you leave me?" He moves faster and she's close to climaxing. Her mind is numb but she can feel his sweat hit her cheeks. She opens her eyes and sees that it is tears, not sweat. He's crying but he's doing what she asks of him, moving faster and harder. "Why Hermione? Why?" And then she's exploding in too many directions and she thinks she's going to blackout but the weight of Ron falls onto her side. He pulls her into him, and she forgets that it's possible for people to want her to stay when sex is over.

She lets her eyes close, and it isn't Ron's face she sees but her parents. The way they looked at each other over the salads. She opens her eyes and Ron is looking at her, mouthing silently, _why? Why? Why? _He sees her and accepts her, but it isn't right and she knows it immediately.

She stays the night anyway.

_**Draco:**_

He hasn't seen her for a week, though he supposes it's not entirely his concern where she is or how she's doing. But the walls are quiet without her annoying bleating.

He teaches himself how to cook Pasta Marinara; from a recipe written on a card he found lying on the kitchen table the day after they last had sex. It's delicious but he eats it by himself. He made one serving size too much.

He thinks maybe he'll go the market again, like he used to, but Alfred is on vacation with his family in Wales.

His feet are cold so he makes a fire and looks out at the beautiful ocean. He desires her company, loathe as he is to admit it.

He needs new socks. These ones have holes in the toe.

**-X-**

He walks to the inn. Knocks on the door. That old witch Madge lets him in and he goes to her room. The room is so clean, too clean to have been lived in for the week. Something blue catches his eye and he picks it up. It's his sweater, folded tenderly near her pillow.

He puts it back and leaves.

_**Hermione:**_

He is sleeping when she gets up to leave, but she thinks that later this will be how she wants to remember him anyway. Her skin is rough from nights of rubbing against him and she hasn't showered in days. She has rebraided her hair many times but pieces hang lankly in her face.

She hesitates before leaving, knowing that this will be the last chance she gets from him. Then she blinks and remembers last night, when she couldn't sleep. It was then, when she started to get too warm from lying next to Ron, that she knew she hadn't been facing her problems by coming back, but running from them where she was dealing with them in Ireland.

She had nothing to pack up, except her dignity, and so she left, knowing that the crack would wake him. She hoped he wasn't too sad.

**-X-**

Malfoy looks shocked to see her there, as if he counted on her never coming back. She sits down next to him and plays with her hands.

"Not smoking t-?"

"Where were you?"

She draws in a breath. She knows she has to lie, and guilt comes over her in a wave. She knows she has no obligations towards him but lying feels awful all the same.

"I went back to my place."

His lips pulled back in a sneer. He saw right through her.

"You just…went back to your flat. For no reason."

"I had to pay rent." It was already paid until August.

"You couldn't owl it over?"

"I don't like handling money indirectly."

"Stop-"

'Hey Malfoy, what's it to you?"

Silence. Cold silence. But it's decent outside and she wants to enjoy the weather.

"I don't."

"Then just...fuck. Just shut up."

He leans over and breathes in her ear. It's loud and intrusive, creeping into her head and making her feel crowded.

"Don't you talk to me like that." He bites her ear, a little aggressively and then moves down and kisses her clavicle softly. She shivers. "And by the way, you look like shit."

She looks over at him slowly and tries her best to keep her face straight.

"You look wonderful as well, you fucking prat."

"All I'm saying is who stays at their flat for a week and doesn't take a shower?"

"I did take a shower, actually. But my hygiene is none of your concern."

"I won't fuck you when you look like that."

She shakes her head and rubs her temples. She shouldn't have expected it to be any other way. This is who they are with each other. Angry, hostile, uncaring. But she finds that her heart is too full of hate already to let anymore in and she can't be around him tonight. She can't be around him at all.


	9. Love Nothing

**Disclaimer: Yeah yeah, I own no rights and I'm making no money off of this story. Obviously.**

**A/N: Someone mentioned they were confused about the time and the way everything is clipped so I thought I'd fill you in. When I go from Draco to Hermione it doesn't mean that it's the same day or the same scene, unless it's obvious that this is what I've done. Often time it's different days or times altogether. Also, this is "reviewer appreciation" chapter. I will respond to all reviewers! (lol, yay?)**

_**Hermione:**_

"Have you forgiven me yet?"

"No." He grabbed his box of cigarettes from her hands and put it in his pocket. "And ask first, how many times do I have to tell you that?"

"Don't be so grumpy, prick."

He sighed and she turned from him, annoyed. He had been in a foul mood for the three days she had been back. At first it had been understandable. Now it was irritating.

She had tried to stay away but she was wanting of company. Her disgust with herself for sleeping with Ron felt overwhelming, like it was leaking from her pores. Malfoy asked no questions and she hid in his silence.

"Can I-"

"Shut the fuck up."

She winced and pushed a clump of hair behind her ear. He didn't look at her and she waited for words to come. It wasn't normally like this. She wasn't the one who talked and asked questions-she was the mute. When had the roles become reversed?

"Malfoy, I…I'm not sure what I did to upset you."

He turned his head and looked at her, directly, for the first time all afternoon and it sent a prickly feeling down her arms and legs.

"I'm not sure what you did either."

"Then…can we just…start over?" He snorted and lifted his cigarette to his lips. She looked at his chest as he inhaled; it curved inwards and then filled out as he exhaled.

"Start what over, Granger?"

"I don't-"

"We're not boyfriend/girlfriend. You're not my 'soul mate'. You aren't even my friend." He stood and tossed the half finished tube to his right. He shrugged down at her cruelly. "You are nothing to me, honestly."

She didn't want to appear hurt in front of him. She wasn't even sure why she was hurt in the first place. Everything he was saying was true-they used each other for company and that was it. She stood and her legs were shaking.

"Malfoy, listen."

"Stop saying my name. Just stop." He pushed his hands up through his hair and turned from her.

"I don't…please."

Her stomach felt sick. She could feel herself loosing him and it made her feel violently ill. This whole time she thought he needed her-that she was doing him a service, but it was the other way around. He helped her feel nothing…or rather, he helped her feel _anything_ at all. He turned to face her again and where his hands had been hair now fell sloppily.

_(__A clump of hair was molded to his face, dark from rain. She stepped forward and pushed it out of the way.) _

She shook her head of the memory and grabbed his hand. She wanted him to stay, because if he left she would have to face her shame, all on her own. He shook his head and pulled his hand free.

"I can't do this with you anymore. I don't even _like_ you."

"Shut the hell up! Just shut the hell up, Malfoy."

His eyes widened and then grew dark and angry.

"Excuse me? What right do you have to tell _me_ to stop talking? I've done nothing."

She punched him, in the middle of his chest, as hard as she could. He barely braced himself. Instead he smiled and slapped her across the face. It rang out and filled in all the spaces between them. She stepped back and cradled her cheek in her hands. She cried, for the second time in front of him, but this time he just watched her.

"I don't pity you. I never will. And if that's why you keep me around, you might as well just fuck off."

She looked up and stopped crying. She messily wiped her hands under and over her eyes, hoping she didn't already look swollen and red.

"I don't want you to pity me."

"Then what do you want?"

She shrugged and tucked her head down. He made an angry impatient noise and when she looked up again he looked tired.

"Let's just go back to my place."

She shook her head. Apparated out.

**-X-**

The blankets were over her head but she was still cold. She tried to remember what she did with her time before she started spending it with Malfoy but couldn't. It had only been two months but, for some reason, she considered him…a friend. A friend she slept with, but a friend all the same.

_**Draco:**_

He held her when she cried, he paid for the majority of her cigarettes, and he cooked for her. Oh, he fucked her as well.

But what, really, was he _doing_? It had been three months since he lost his magic and in that time he had been living like a Muggle and smoking with Granger. Neither of which would help him get his magic back.

The thought of going on a date repulsed him. Small talk, paying for an extravagant meal, taking a girl home…the process of falling in love was tedious, like a un wanted chore. He didn't want to court someone; he just wanted to be by himself.

A loud crack filled the air and Granger stood before him. He sighed, angry that his night was ruined.

"Go. Away."

She moved slowly, sitting down on the other side of the couch and not looking at him. If only he had magic. Then he could put wards up to prevent her from coming over.

"Can we talk?"

"I'd rather nail my scrotum to a chair."

She cracked her neck and then each finger individually.

"Sixty days ago…I think it was sixty…that makes it two months, doesn't it? I don't know. Anyway, sixty-"

"I'm not having this discussion with you."

" –Days ago, we met and I was really repulsed by you. But at the same time, you-"

"I really wish you'd leave my house right now."

" –Gave me a sort of…I don't know…wall," she smiled, and he was reminded of that stupid church wall. "To hide myself behind. And-"

"Seriously, I'm not listening."

" –The more time I spent with you, the easier it got to be around someone like you. And I think that's because-"

"Don't you dare say it. Just-"

" –We're the same."

He breathed in sharply and his chest hurt. He wouldn't look at her. She moved a little closer and sighed impatiently.

"I can leave if you want."

One, three, five minutes went by before he groaned and stood up.

"There's leftovers on the stove if you want."

She smiled faintly at him and got up in front of him. Her lips touched his gently and she rested her forehead on his chest.

"Thank you." She mumbled.

**July**

_** Hermione:**_

"No. Not here. Seriously."

She looked wildly around for someone to spot them but Church had been over for hours. They were alone. She felt his lips nip and tug on her ear, her throat, her shoulder, until she felt as though she would burst. She sat on his lap and kissed him, biting his bottom lip a bit too hard.

"Ouch." He touched his lip and examined his finger for blood. "Bloody vixen."

She smiled and traced his face.

"This is a very bad idea." She whispered.

He nodded, grudgingly. She noticed blond scruff on his cheeks and chin. It scratched under her fingers.

"We've always been a bad idea." He gave her a wicked grin. Her heart flipped in her chest and she tried to hold it with her hands, as if she could stop it. "But Granger, I dare you to tell me to stop."

"I don't…" His fingers moved beneath a leg of her shorts and underneath her knickers, which were already wet and warm.

"Don't lie to me." He hissed and he pushed one finger into her slick folds.

She was instantly gone. She felt her whole body relax under him and she gripped his shoulders, hands knotting in the material of his shirt, as he moved one, two fingers in and out of her. Her head tilted back and she moaned in pleasure. Her need was growing; he filled her with heat.

"Oh…please…" She began to tug at his pants, only getting them down enough to see his boxers tented in arousal. He stopped her, moving his thumb over her nub and biting down on her collar. She lost it, loosing herself in a wave of pleasure. "Draco…"

His head snapped up at the sound of his name. His eye were black, his lips parted in disbelief. In a quick succession of smooth movements he had tore her shorts off and she didn't even know his pants were that far down, but he buried himself in her to the hilt.

She couldn't breathe and there were hundreds of millions of stars surrounding her as he rocked his hips rhythmically against her own and oh, oh, oh, she was so close again.

"_Hermione" _Not that horrible abbreviation but the whole thing, four separate sounds put together and she had never heard it from him before. It was so personal and she felt herself come apart, him following shortly after.

Neither moved; it was so hot outside…too hot for Ireland. Her skin felt loose on her and she tightened her grip on his shirt. He buried his face in the crook of her neck and sighed.

_**Draco:**_

There was something strange about hearing the shower run and knowing it wasn't him who was in it. The water hit the shower floor loudly and he wondered how long she would be in it.

Back at the Malfoy Manor there were so many rooms and bathrooms that he never heard the water running unless it was his own doing. Even his father and mother showered on opposite sides of the house. For Granger to be showering less than ten feet from where he sat seemed oddly…intimate. He wasn't sure he could wrap his mind around the fact that he was ok with it. But he was.

The water turned off and he held his breath. Was she going to change? Leave? He played with his thumbs and tried to think of other things than her naked body, wet and dripping.

She came out a minute later, wrapped in his black towel that he had used just that morning. It hadn't looked that good on him. She had a puzzled look on her face and her hands were tightly grasped around one edge of the towel.

"Where…what should I wear?"

He had ruined her shorts…and her knickers. It was a valid question. She could just apparate back to her room but he felt that since it was his doing he should fix it somehow.

He stood and looked around the room.

"Erm…you could…" He scratched his chin. He needed to shave. "Wear my clothes."

He led her into his room and picked a pair of trousers off of the floor. They were soft and worn and much too long for her but he handed them over.

She held the fabric in her hands and smiled faintly.

"Guess I'll have to go commando." She joked. "I'll, uhm, return them to you later."

She made a move to leave and he cleared his throat.

"You could stay for dinner. If you'd like."

_**Hermione:**_

"Let's have a picnic."

"No."

"Well why not?" she huffed and shoved him gently.

"I'm not your boyfriend and we aren't going on a date."

"But it's so _nice_ outside. Seriously, we're going."

She tried to tug him up but he was too heavy. He crossed his arms stubbornly and remained in bed.

"Stop being so lazy!" she whined.

"You apparate into _my_ bedroom at ten in the morning and then call me lazy. Great persuasion skills, Granger."

She bounced on her knees, making the bed shake. She looked down at him, their faces close.

"Pleasepleaseplease." She begged and pouted. He kissed her and then closed his eyes.

"No."

She sat back on her bum and frowned. It was quiet as he pretended to fall back asleep. She continued to stare at him angrily until finally he opened one eye. Seeing that she was still determined he groaned and sat up.

"Fine."

_**Draco:**_

He watched her talk; noticed the way she gracefully moved her hair about and how her hair bounced lightly above her breasts. Occasionally she stopped what she was saying and smiled, casting her eyes down, only to continue a second later.

He tried to murmur the occasional, "Oh." And "Hmm." Whenever he felt it was necessary, but really it didn't matter what she was saying. He just liked listening to her, in the way that he had enjoyed listening to the servants chatter while they cooked and cleaned back at home. It was peaceful and everything that was said wouldn't matter in a hundred years, but for that moment, Granger really loved whatever she was discussing. He tuned in.

" –And really, the entire time it had been Crookshanks! Harry was so embarrassed." She beamed at him, waiting for him to get the joke. He laughed politely and then reached foreword for a lock of her hair. She looked quizzically at him as he ran his fingers over and through it. "What are you thinking?" she asked him.

"I like it when you talk gibberish."

_**Hermione:**_

She held the map out in front of her, unfolding and turning it in every direction before sighing and putting it back in her pocket. The castle before her was large and she couldn't make her way around it or through it.

"Draco, can you-"

"I don't want to be here."

She tapped her foot impatiently and handed him the map. Grudgingly he opened the map and took a quick glance at it. She watched his eyes sweep the lines and swirls before he folded it-the wrong way- and stuffed it in her hand again.

"Tell me why we're here and I'll tell you how we get to the top."

"Blarney Castle was built nearly six hundred years ago by one of Ireland's greatest chieftains, Cormac MacCarthy-"

"Don't _recite, _Granger." She hummed and waited for him to look down at her again.

"Basically, _Malfoy_," she tried a sneer out herself and hoped it fit. "People come here to kiss the Blarney stone."

"The-you mean to say you're going to kiss a stone?"

"Yes."

"That's most foul." He shook his head. "Hundreds-millions of people have already…and then you'll expect me to kiss it, I'm sure."

"It brings good luck."

"Absolutely not." He tried to turn but she held onto his hand.

"Please stay." She watched his face soften and then try to mask it with indifference. She smiled up at him as thankfully as she could. "So…?"

"That corridor. Then we'll take the steps up and around another corner."

He didn't let go of her hand as they wound their way up to the top.

**-X-**

"That wasn't so bad and you know it."

"I was literally only being held up by a rope and someone _I don't know_. To kiss a stone."

"But now you're lucky!"

He kissed her cheek and let go of her hand.

"God." He said. She looked at him, confused. "You've got stone breath."

_**Draco:**_

For a July night, it was cold. For a July night in _Ireland_, it was warm. Nevertheless, Draco rocked back and forth on his heels, trying to decide what he would do. The pub smelled like comfort and alcohol. He hadn't drank in so long.

He didn't have a reason to, really. Granger…Hermione, kept him occupied and at night, when she left or when he arrived home on his own, he was too tired to do anything but sleep. He had no urge to walk into the bar, all of a sudden. He turned on his heel and started to walk in the other direction. And then he smelled her; that disgusting smell that had been dragged up from the earth's core. She beckoned to him from the alley down the street and he couldn't walk away. He followed her, deeper and deeper, until there was nothing but the night between them.

"Dracooo Malfffoyy." She hissed and he cringed at the sound of his name.

"Please." He said, simply. He wished he had walked into the pub and withered away.

"Tell me, Draco, are you in love?"

"It's been three months, how can one fall in love in only three months time?"

He regretted speaking harshly towards her immediately and cowered in his spot. Her next words were biting and cold, like freshly cut meat, dripping with blood.

"I grow impatient with your lack of progress. It is as though my warning has done nothing. You still do nothing, love nothing, and give nothing. And yet, here you are, alive but dead."

He took a step back and fell back. He looked up at her and wished for it to just be over.

"By my next visit…" and then she disappeared.

He didn't move for a very long time.

**-X-**

"So it's sort of like a date?"

"Yes."

It was strange, but Draco didn't mind the idea of going on a date with Hermione. She was annoying and loud, rude and presumptuous, but she was also a challenge. He liked challenges. Mainly crossword puzzles on The Daily Prophet and Quidditch, but all the same she was a challenge.

"So…do I get to dress up?"

He nodded and watched her face try and digest the idea of them in dress clothes, on a date, together.

"Unless that's too much." He said.

"No…no that's nice." She smiled and looked down at her hands, which were picking at his couch.

"Stop that." He slapped at her hand. "Don't be nervous, it's just a date. It's just us."

She looked sadly, anxiously, up at him.

"But don't you see? It could never be that simple. It never has been."


	10. The Truth

_**Hermione:**_

She tried to remember the last time that she had been this stressed over an outfit. There was the time her parents renewed their vows and she had wanted to impress the guests (Ron) by looking sophisticated and mature. Looking back, she missed being that young.

There was the Yule Ball, with her long blue dress robes and sleek hair the touched the tips of her shoulders. She hadn't straightened her hair since, but the idea always resonated in the back of her mind.

It was a tricky thing, this date with Draco. In her mind she had never looked beyond touching and arguing. The idea of peace…of a quiet meal in a detailed room was foreign to her. More than that, she found herself excited in that way you can only compare to waiting on your very first boyfriend to pick you up and take you out. She had never had that, being a witch since before puberty. Ron had come to get her of course, but they had apparated out. She doubted Draco even knew what a car was, but in comparison to Ron he seemed so normal. The Draco she knew anyway.

She wondered if it would lead to more and if she would care when it didn't…_if_ it didn't. She decided she wouldn't, as long as they stayed friends.

"None of this will do." She sighed and pushed all of the items she had laid out in front of her off of her bed. One item, a sparkly blue dress that she had worn to a party at work, fell on Crookshanks who was previously sleeping on the carpet. He mewed angrily and stomped off.

She was lost. She had no one here to help her get pretty and fawn over her before she left. She almost wished she could skip ahead to where Draco and her were in love and it didn't matter what she wore.

As soon as the thought left her head she gasped and a few more skirts and shoes fell off her bed as she sat down and put her head in her hands. Did she really want to be in _love_ with Draco Malfoy?

Of course not, it was stupid to even think that. But then, she wondered, why was she going on a date? Didn't dates imply that one wanted more eventually? Draco had been the one to ask her on the date, and yet she had a weird feeling that crept up her skin like a ladybug that she was the only one having these worries.

Panic rose in her throat and she clawed at it with her nails. She couldn't breathe and she felt so alone. She knew immediately what she had to do. As she prepared to leave, her mind focused on her destination, she heard a knock at her door and she came back to the present. Madge came in and smiled.

"Oh, sorry dear. Are you leaving?" she asked.

"Yes." Hermione stammered, nerves working in every inch of her body. Her legs shook.

"Well that's nice. Where are you off 'ta?"

"To see my friend…Harry Potter."

**-X-**

He was lying on the couch with one arm draped over his chest and the other dangling off the edge, fingers skimming the soft gray carpet. Glasses rested slightly off of his face, hooked behind only his right ear. She smiled at how comfortably normal this felt and then grimaced at how long it had been. She swallowed and sat down next to him, the couch sinking in a little under her weight.

Hermione gently took his teetering glasses off his face and held them in her hands. The tug from behind his ear woke him and he groggily opened his eyes.

"Oi, mate. I said not till-"

He sat up. She handed him his glasses and he put them on firmly. When he saw that it was she, he blinked and said nothing.

"Hey." She whispered. He didn't respond. "So…I brought you something."

She reached into her bag and pulled out an unopened bottle of Butterbeer. He made no move to take it from her and so she stood, twisting the bottle in her hands.

"Shall I get you some, then?"

She moved to walk into his kitchen, finding that everything was just where it had always been. Her hands moved effortlessly to pull two cups from the top right shelf in his cupboard and placed them on the table. The cork wouldn't budge and she struggled, placing the bottle between her legs and wrenching on it with both hands.

"I can never-"

He came from nowhere-she hadn't even seen him move from the couch. Aggressively-angrily, he tore the bottle from her hands and ripped the cork out. Then, smoothly like a bartender, he poured them both an equal amount of the liquid.

"Are you here to stay?"

"No."

"I know what you did to Ron."

"I figured as much."

He took a sip and winced as the initial shock of warmth hit his lips. She peered at him over her glass and watched his face soften. She had missed those green eyes.

"Why did you do it, Hermione? He's a wreck. He doesn't leave his house and not even his flat-the Burrow. After working so hard to get his own place he's back at home because he can't let go of the last time he saw you. You did that to him."

"I know." Her heart pounded and she felt it in her gut.

"That's not enough. Knowing is not enough."

"He can't know I'm here Harry. He-"

"Right. Because you're just going to leave me to, aren't you? Get what you need from me and then leave me curled up in my bed like a miserably sod."

"What I did was wrong, but I lo-"

He held up a hand and silenced her. She turned her cheek and looked at his fridge, taking in the metal and the small chips on the side. He should really paint over that, he-

"People who love each other don't treat each other that way. And I don't mean just with Ron. Christ, Hermione. You and I, we've been friend's forever. Nearly eleven years and that still isn't enough time to deserve a goodbye? An explanation? More than a poorly written letter saying to not seek you?"

His words were nothing but honest, and that was why they hurt so much. She put her drink back on the table and looked sadly at him.

"Things aren't ok…for me. Things are very hard and I…I screwed things up with Ron. More than once. But I love him, I do. Or did. I'm not sure anymore. And maybe that doesn't make me a very nice person, but it does make me human. That's all I am, Harry."

At that he smiled and rested a palm on her shoulder.

"I know you're only human and I can't blame you for that. I never will. But you see, Ron's my best mate, same as you. I'm having such a hard time staying balanced between you both and being kind to each of you. Everything is falling apart and I don't think I can keep it all together. That was supposed to be your job."

"It always ends this way." She said sadly.

"Hm?" he looked at her quizzically.

"The story, Harry." She had picked the drink up again, somewhere between his and her talking, and it remained untouched. She ran a finger around the rim of the cup and licked her finger clean of foam. "Three best friends, two date, they break up and it's never the same. All that's left is for you to toss me out and call me a cunt for hurting your _real_ friend."

He hugged her then, hard and fast and her drink sloshed all over them. She had an overwhelming urge to cry and instead she laughed.

"What's funny?" he asked and pulled back.

"Us. Here. Now." She smiled. "We're adults and we're alive, we're living and yet we're children. We can't figure anything out. You know?"

He shook his head but gave her a familiar grin.

"No but you always seemed to have it all figured out, so I guess you must be right. Somehow."

They walked back to the couch and Harry lit a fire. Here in London it was raining, as usual, and it was rather chilly for July. She curled up on his shoulder and sighed happily. This was what she wanted, forever.

"Why didn't you come sooner, Hermione?"

She looked at the ceiling and considered his question. It wasn't necessarily that she hadn't wanted to see him. Merlin, she missed him at least once every day.

"I think I was scared."

"Of me?" she nodded. "Why?"

"We go everywhere together, Harry. You, Ron and I. But even when he wasn't around, you always were and I just didn't know what to do. I didn't want to deal with your anger, I wanted to skip ahead to the part where you missed me and told me you needed me all along."

He rubbed her shoulder and held her close. She had always liked being close with him; even after the horrible things she did left her feeling disgusted and not worthy of touch. He was gentle. He was kind.

"Hermione, we've always needed you. All of us, not just me Hermione. Neville, Seamus, Justin, Ginny, Lavender, Parvati, and Luna…I can go on for ages. You've always been the glue."

"It never felt that way."

"I think you _used_ to feel sure of this. And then…"

They looked at each other and her eyes cast downwards. He understood now was not the time to bring it up and continued over it like a scratched record.

"Well, afterwards you just pulled away. Eventually it was only the three of us again. Except this time it wasn't the three of us against the world. It was just you. I missed you before you even left. You were never here."

"I'm here now."

"Which is why I can't find myself able to be angry with you, even though I had imagined this moment a thousand times and all of them were much more violent. You're still sad, I can tell. But…you're better."

She nodded, accepting this and sighed.

"I want to be ok. I just…need more time."

"What about your flat?"

"Paid until next month."

"And your job?"

"Quit."

He breathed in and then smiled.

"Good for you." He nodded. "You weren't happy there. Not in the end. But what will you do now?"

"Finish what I started, I guess."

He looked down, sadly.

"That's not here, is it?" she shook her head. His shoulders slumped.

"I'm sorry. I need this. I don't know why but it's more quiet there."

"It's your Room of Requirement."

She nodded and squeezed his hand, sharing the memory briefly before standing.

"I love talking with you, but I actually came here with a goal in mind?"

"What, Hermione?"

"I need your help."

He waited and then waved her on. She blushed and the color spread over both her cheeks and the tip of her ears.

"I need help…finding a dress. For a date."

"A date? Who did you find over there? I don't…who?"

"Draco Malfoy."


	11. Beautiful

**Disclaimer**: In its use of intellectual property and characters belonging to JK Rowling, Warner Bros, Bloomsbury Publishing, et cetera, this work of fiction is intended to be transformative commentary on the original. No profit is being made from this work.

**A/N: **People actually reviewed like I asked? What? Just kidding, I love you all. I'm not sure anyone's figured this out, but most of my Chapters are songs that I listened to the most while writing. 1, 2 & 3 are by The Bravery. 4 is by Augustana. 5 is by The National. 7 is by Sufjan Stevens. 8 is by Regina Spektor. 9 is by Massive Attack. 11 is by The Killers.

_**Draco:**_

The coffee was black and in the back of his mind he thought that it would taste even better with a cigarette. He was all out though, and in the haze of asking Hermione to go on a date, he had forgotten to go to the market and buy food. He was forgetting a lot of things lately…

Before he had started meeting with her, he had needed to drink to forget. Now he had been sober for a month and he hadn't felt a longing for liquor like he used to. They met to forget, and it had kept him away from other methods. It was a new feeling, one he hadn't reflected on in months and if anything he was grateful to her for that.

He had no business dating Hermione. Not really. He had no emotions towards her other than lust and even that was fueled by anger and lack of respect. But his fear had been too great and his need for magic again overtook all others of rationalism. He had asked her on a date, and as he stood before his closet, fingering his robes and slacks, he wondered if this was going to go in a direction he didn't care for.

Love.

_**Hermione:**_

He slammed the door in her face and she didn't move.

"Harry." She said at a medium volume. He didn't open the door and she rested her forehead on the doorknob. "Harry, please."

There was a creaking outside the door and she knew she had won. She pulled her head up and pretended to pick at lint off her shirt as he opened up quietly.

"Let's get food first."

**-X-**

"I didn't know Seamus had a pub." She whispered.

"It opened at the end of March." Harry told her calmly, but she could hear the hint of irritation in his voice.

They had stepped out of the rain and ducked into a warm pub that sat on the corner of London. She had almost forgotten about Seamus' dream of opening a pub, which would reflect his hometown in Ireland. She smiled, looking around and realizing how true to it he had stayed.

"Oi, Harry! Hermione! Come 'ere!"

Her head snapped up. Harry gently tugged on her arm and they made their way through a reasonably sized crowd and sat down on two recently empty seats at the bar.

"Seamus!" she cried, and found that she was happy to see him.

"Hermione, hey you insufferable git! Where have you been?"

He walked to the other side of the bar and squeezed her tightly. He smelled like wood polish and beer.

"Doing some work out of London." She lied smoothly and he seemed to take it.

He grinned and released her, moving back to his spot behind the bar. A young man with unruly hair came up and got a pitcher of delicious smelling beer and then walked back to his table.

"What can I get for you two?" he asked and offered menus. Harry shook his head and gave them back.

"Seamus, I'm here at least once a week. I know what I'll have."

"Ah." He smirked. "But the missus over here hasn't been." He made the gesture again but she smiled over at Harry.

"You know actually, I'll have whatever he's having."

"All I want is my usual fish and chips with a side of today's brew."

"You got it, mates."

He walked away with a jaunt in his step that she had never seen before. Curiously, she wondered if she has to leave before everyone's life seemed to start. How much else had she missed?

"I feel so left out." She mumbled.

"Isn't that what you wanted?" he asked in return.

Before she could answer Seamus had come back again and plopped two beers down in front of them. She cradled the glass in her hands before taking a sip that equivocated half of the cup.

"This is great, Seamus. What is it?"

"That, Hermione, is my own special brew. I call it the Firebolt Jolt."

She grinned and remembered him and Harry racing each other in the courtyard after Harry had gotten his Firebolt. He had always been the first to cheer Harry at the Quidditch games, and besides her and Ron was the loudest in the stands.

It had seemed to her that coming back was not as simple as she had planned it to be. As she listened to Seamus chatter on about new marketing for his pub and regular customers with funny accidents and drunken stupors, she wondered how she would have fit into this part of their life. Would she have been there last Friday night with Harry and Ginny as they stumbled out smashed? Or would she have been hiding in her room from Ron as usual?

She had thought she would need to leave to heal, but the warmth that was seeping into her veins was only a third alcohol and an even more an overwhelming portion of friendship. She loved these people, and she had missed laughing with them. She had missed one of her best friends fulfilling his dreams, but more than that she had missed helping him do it.

"Oh, blimey." He smacked his head in mock frustration. "I forgot your food!"

As he disappeared to get their meal she looked at Harry and smiled weakly.

"Not as easy as you thought, is it?"

"But reading me is?"

He shrugged and patted her on the back, making small circles around her shoulders.

"I'm so hungry." He murmured and scratched a spot behind his ear.

Almost as if on queue, Seamus stumbled out and gave them their food. Steam rose up from the crispy fish and she was practically breathing in the grease.

"I'll leave you to it then." He said and left to go make rounds. "Hey, you!..."

Harry was tearing at his fish with his fingers and swallowing with little to no relish. He had always been this way, barely swallowing and stuffing as much as he could, but she felt like it was different. She realized she was used to the careful cutting and chewing that Draco practiced, and though clearly this way had less grace, she found herself smiling. She had missed him…he was such a _boy_.

She took a bite and it nearly burned the roof of her mouth. The flakes of fish melted on her tongue like butter and slid down her throat with equal ease.

"This is fantastic. Does he make this?"

Harry shook his head and swallowed, wiping his hands on a napkin.

"No, that would be Lavender."

_"Lavender?" _she shrieked. He shushed her before continuing.

"Yes, Lavender. They've been dating for about a month now but she's always been his chef. They planned this place together."

Her mouth hung agape and she put her hand over her mouth to stop herself from saying anything unkind.

"I'm just so…why didn't anyone tell me this?"

"You didn't tell us where you were, Hermione."

Silence. Chewing. Swallowing.

"I'm sorry."

"I know you are."

When she ate with Draco they were silent. Food was the closest thing he had to religion and he made that clear by not responding lengthily to her every time she tried to make conversation.

Harry, however, talked nonstop, sometimes while still chewing. This comfort they had around each other was enormously endearing and she felt a rush of affection for him.

They each had another beer and then they paid and left.

**-X-**

"This one."

Harry pulled a dress off the rack and handed it to her. The material slipped over her hands and she frowned.

"This isn't really my style, Harry."

He shrugged and pushed her into the curtained dressing room.

"That's the point."

She struggled to pull the dress up over her thighs. She had been filling out this past month and found that things fit her more comfortably.

"It looks like something Ginny would wear." She marveled.

She didn't dare look in the mirror. She could already tell it wasn't her style.

"Come out. Let me see." She did and he let his face remain motionless.

Mumbling, he went off to look for another dress and she went back into the room again to look at herself. The dress fit her in some areas but in others it was too tight. She found herself a bit sad; the dress was a beautiful style and color. She felt so ugly and bloated all of a sudden and practically tore the dress off in order to not see it any longer. She stared at herself, in only her bra and panties.

"Hey, Hermione. Try this one."

A dress pushed through the folds of the curtain and she grabbed onto it.

"It's so…" It was a light pink dress with very round black dots covering it all the way around. It clung tight on top and fell loosely from her waist to her knees where it ended with a lacy hem. "Simple."

She stepped out and let the curtain fall behind her. Nervously, she patted the dress down, trying to stretch it to reach past her knees.

Harry didn't say anything, considering her appearance quietly. She fidgeted in his gaze, blushing and eventually turning away.

"Let's pick another one, shall we?"

"No."

She turned and bit her bottom lip. She wanted to look beautiful but she didn't feel like it.

"No?"

"No. This one is perfect."

**-X-**

"Let's order pizza."

She turned her head lazily towards Harry and smiled. Pizza sounded wonderful. Absentmindedly he picked up the phone she had forced him to buy when her and Ron got one and dialed for pizza.

"Pepperoni and sausage?" he mouthed silently at her and when she nodded he ordered a large pizza for them both.

When it arrived he insisted on paying and they curled up on his couch, eating piece after piece while watching Jersey Shore and laughing together. It was just like old times except she wanted to cry because if it were _really_ like old times, then Ron would be here too. It would never be like old times.

"Hermione?"

"Hmm." She closed her eyes and sighed happily. She was full and warm and happy.

"Don't go back."

Her eyes opened and she sat up, wrapping her arms around her knees.

"Ok."

_**Draco:**_

He decided on his nice black slacks and a gray and purple striped button down. _No tie, too pretentious_. He pulled on his black dress shoes and then slicked back his hair. It had grown to his shoulders now and could easily be worn down but he wasn't sure if she liked it that way, and tonight wasn't the night for experimentation.

She was to apparate at his house in fifteen minutes. Satisfied that he was ready he reflected on the way to walk over to the restaurant and on the exact time of their reservation.

He picked up a book and thumbed through the pages.

The seat was comfortable. He closed his eyes.

His watch read that she was five minutes late. Hermione was never late to anything, not even times they planned on fucking.

He stood and stretched. Being fifteen minutes late was nothing. It still gave him plenty of time to get them to their reservations on time.

Thirty minutes late. He wished he could apparate to her place and see what was taking her so long.

An hour. She wasn't coming.

He started to unbutton his shirt and get ready for bed.

_**Hermione:**_

The sweet aroma of coffee wafted to her and for a moment she wondered if no time had passed and she was still in her flat, getting ready for breakfast before work. But she opened her eyes and she was in Hurry's apartment, as she had been for a week now, with no job and no clue what to do.

"Do you think he'll be mad?"

Harry slid a cup to her across the table and she filled it to the top.

"Honestly, the Malfoy I know wouldn't even look at you, much less ask you on a date. So I can't really tell you what he'll do considering that you bailed."

"Cream?" he passed her half and half and she looked at it until her eyes crossed.

"Draco hates cream…" she whispered and her chair clattered to the floor as she cracked out.

_**Draco:**_

He poured himself a cup of coffee and stared into the black abyss. The feelings swimming around in his head were confusing and unnerving, to say the least. He wasn't angry until he woke up the next day and she hadn't contacted him. Then the next day passed and the next day and the next and it was that week all over again; he didn't know where she was and while the last time he hadn't had a right to know where she was, this time he did. This time he had lost something by her being gone.

He wasn't her boyfriend. He wasn't her lover. But damnit, he had made reservations and canceling them was a feeling of embarrassment that he never wanted to experience again.

He opened his fridge to get an orange and sitting there, on the top shelf in the back corner next to his milk and eggs, was a small container of creamer. He picked it up and shut the door. It was cold in his hands as he turned it around and around, trying to remember when he had bought it. He hated creamer; he had never used it in his coffee.

But Hermione did; she loaded her cup to the top with the shit.

He popped it open and poured some in. His coffee turned into a milky brown color and he was wary to try it.

"Hey."

He turned around and a little coffee sloshed on the ground. He hadn't heard her apparate in and cursed himself again for not setting up wards when he had the chance. When he still had magic.

She was beautiful and he hated to admit it. She had tamed her curls somehow and pulled half up behind her ears. Her pink and black spotted dress matched her creamy skin and for once she was wearing makeup, done sophisticatedly and lightly to bring out her best features.

"Am I too late for our date?"

**-X-**

He didn't know any place that would take them last minute. As he pulled on the outfit he had previously planned out, he tried to think of somewhere-anywhere that was open for this occasion.

He slipped into the bathroom and pulled out his oil. He slipped some through his fingers and touched them to his temple. A smaller hand reached out and stopped him.

"Leave it."

She turned on the sink and he held his hands under, watching the oil slide down the drain. She reached up on her toes and ran her fingers through his hair, pulling and sliding and grabbing. He closed his eyes and concentrated on the feeling that swept through his every limb.

"Stop." He gently removed her hands and walked away, turning off the light and leaving her in the dark.

_**Hermione:**_

"Draco." She hissed and pulled on his arm. "Draco _please._" She dug her heels on the ground and he simply turned around, picked her up and threw her over his shoulder.

"Be quiet. You'll wake up the dogs."

"The DOGS?"

"I'll put something over your mouth, don't think I won't."

She was quiet but in her head she wondered how much he could see of her from this angle, considering how short her dress was.

Draco opened a door swiftly, putting his foot behind it to keep it from swinging and clattering. No alarms went off and he put her down.

"Hungry?" he smiled.

It was dark and it took her eyes a while to adjust. When she finally came to she saw that she was in a bakery. The smell of bread and cakes, icing and sprinkles surrounded her. She looked at him in surprise and he just shrugged.

"What…how…"

"Shh."

He moved to a display and slid the glass over. Without looking back at her he gestured for her to come over.

Tentatively, as if she might set off an invisible trigger, she tiptoed over to his side. He handed her a cupcake. It was small and had little white sprinkles on it.

"Take a bite." He urged but she shook her head and handed it back to him.

"Draco, I can't. This is…stealing."

He grinned up at her and peeled back the paper, taking a bite. He stood and moved very close to her.

"It's not stealing…it's borrowing."

"Oh, so you intend to return that cupcake?"

"Don't put it past me."

He peeled more paper off and put it to her lips.

"You know what your problem is, Granger?" he didn't wait for her to answer before whispering in her ear softly. "You don't let yourself do what you want."

"I-"

"Eat the cupcake."

She bit down and chewed. It was sweet and she licked her lips, getting off icing that had stubbornly stuck.

"It's-"

"You missed some." He murmured and kissed her.

His tongue ran smoothly over her bottom lip and he bit on the center as he pulled away. She gasped and smiled.

"…sweet." She finished and touched her lip.

**-X-**

In the end, four cupcakes were missing from the display and two slices were unevenly cut from what appeared to be a newly made vanilla cake. Hermione had wanted the carrot cake, but Draco had cut her a slice before she could argue and she found that she didn't mind letting him win sometimes.

He took her back to Madge's place and they paused outside the door.

"This is weird." She admitted and he nodded in agreement.

"It is."

"Do I go in now?"

He kissed her softly and lingered near her cheek.

"Yes."

"Do we do this again?"

He was silent for a moment and then as he walked down the stairs and away from the house he told her, "Maybe."

_**Draco**_

__His sheets were cool that night and slid over his body effortlessly. The texture reminded him of her dress and he smiled at remembering how nice she looked. He wondered if he did ok, and if she was lying in her bed smiling about him as well.

It was weird to think of her in this way. Though they called each other different names, they were still the people that they were. He couldn't ignore the thoughts in the back of his mind that he sometimes thought when he saw her. The bushy hair, the crooked teeth and that annoying sense of arrogance and knowing everything.

But none of that was here anymore, appearance wise. He asked himself daily if he only tolerated her because she was decent looking and shockingly, the answer was only sometimes yes.

_Sleep, mind._

And so he did.

_**Hermione:**_

She knew Harry wouldn't mind her dipping out, and somewhere in the recesses of her mind she trusted herself that this was not running away, this time.

She remembered Seamus' pub and the smile that had split his face when he saw her; how Lavender had found peace with him. She didn't want to lose out on any more moments with any of her friends.

She missed Ginny, and the silly things they did like braiding hair and painting toenails. She wished she could have found time to see her, and then-_how could I not have noticed? -_She wondered why Ginny hadn't stopped by Harry's at all in a week.

She shut her mind, refusing to believe the worst.

Tonight, she was…happy? It had seemed so long since she had done this. Dressed up to go out with someone who wanted her company and then came home tired, stripping off her clothes.

Ron had never allowed that. He had stayed with her, usually the one to strip the clothes from her reluctant body. Ron was dependant on others, and she had tried for so long to not be that way.

Draco allowed her independence. He didn't linger, and she liked that. Lingering confused her.

She willed herself to sleep and finally she did.

_**Draco:**_

He pulled the cigarette from between her teeth and took a long drag. Ashes crumbled to his feet and he closed his eyes. The whole world was changing right before him and he couldn't bear it.

"Draco?"

"Mmm."

"I love you."

His eyes snapped open and he was heaving heavily. The room was spinning so he blinked a couple times to get it still.

"A dream, it was only a dream."

He kept shaking his head as if she might appear at any second and say those three words for real. His heart slowed in his chest until he finally leaned back and fell asleep.

**-X-**

"I can't…stop taking that from me, I want to try."

Reluctantly he handed her the spoon again and she stirred the contents of the pot a little too harshly. Clumps stuck to the wooden material and she jabbed angrily at the metal until it fell off again. Draco winced, reaching his hand out as a reflex and then let it fall to his side again.

She moved to the pot next to the bigger one and stirred what was inside. Aromas hit his nose and he wanted so badly to be the one cooking.

He had never relinquished control before and it made him a wreck. He was dominant in most things that they did; smoking, fucking, leaving. But this was the unspoken rule: He always cooked. She was rubbish at it, so really it shouldn't have been a problem. But there she stood in front of him, holding all the utensils and making spaghetti like her life depended on it.

"Draco, relax." She smiled brightly at him and he felt his hands unclench.

"I just-"

"I'm not going to ruin your dinner."

He exhaled loudly and slumped in a chair near the table. Watching her was making it harder but he tried to focus instead on the ticking of the clock and the sound her shoes made as she walked back and forth between pots.

"Don't let it stick to the-"

"I won't."

He stood and then sat again, this time breathing in and holding his breath until his lungs felt like they were about to explode.

"Done."

He got up and pulled out dishes, setting the table silently. She brought the pot over and handed it to him. He gave them equal amounts and then she drizzled sauce lightly over it.

They sat across from each other so she could watch his expression.

He liked to think he would have done better, but he had to give it to her, she did pretty well. He opened his mouth to tell her and found that her eyes were red.

"What's wrong?" he asked.

Her mouth trembled and she put her hand to her chin; she always did that when she didn't want to cry. He reached across the table and took her hand but she pulled back.

"My mum…you know, she used to make me…"

He remembered her talking about her Mum and recipes…how the meal was sentimental. He shut his eyes, not ready to deal with emotions over _food._ But somehow, by crossing the line and taking her on a date, he had somehow turned dealing with emotions into a responsibility. Something he was liable for.

"Uhm." He cleared his throat. She was wiping a tear from her chin. "You know, parent's never really leave us."

"I can't talk about this."

"Ok."

He made sure to eat as much as she did until it was gone, and then they cleaned side-by-side, tears occasionally slipping down her face and into the water.

**-X-**

"Are you leaving?"

She pulled her shirt over her head and pushed hair behind her ears. She looked at him quizzically and blinked.

"What? Yes…I mean, I think…"

"Oh."

She stood there, pants unbuttoned and arms crossed. She looked so vulnerable and for some reason he had a thought, a wish and wanted to express it.

"I think I'll ju-"

"I can't fall asleep. Uhm…I mean you should stay and keep me company. Unless you have plans."

He regretted it as soon as he said it. He hoped she would ignore him and keep moving. Instead she pulled off her pants and climbed in bed next to him. She sat for a minute, clearly uncomfortable but then, his heart beating loudly, she fell back and rested her cheek on the crook between his collar and shoulder.

She fit there. That had never happened to him before. Then again, he had never invited anyone to stay the night before either. All the same, he liked how her hair felt against his skin, and the sensation of her short little breaths.

She fell asleep quickly but, although it was a lie, he found that he could not in fact fall asleep. He didn't fall asleep at all.

**-X-**

"That's mine."

Hermione gave a noncommittal hum and slipped the hot pocket in cardboard. She took a bite and he watched her make a face as it burned.

"Ouch. You put it in for too long."

"That's how I like it!" he said, exasperated.

"Draco, just make a new one. You have three _boxes_ of hot pockets."

"I wanted that one."

She sighed and took another, smaller bite.

"Don't be so dramatic. Seriously, there is two more pepperoni ones left."

"But I wanted that one."

"What's the difference?"

Silence. He couldn't think of why, he just didn't like that she had reached in the microwave and taken it for herself.

"Look, I bought that one. That's the difference."

"Since when haven't you shared?"

"Since I wanted the hot pocket and you took it from me."

"_Draco_." She seethed and he almost gave up. Almost.

"It's mine. It-"

She threw it at him, with good aim and it hit him square in the face. He didn't make any emotions but simply picked it up from the table where it had bounced and took a bite over her already present bite marks.

"This is really good, thanks honey."

She stormed off into his room and slammed the door.

"That's mine too!"

**-X-**

"Granger, turn that shit _off_."

"_I see you driving 'round town with the girl I love and I'm like-fuck you! I guess the change in my pocket wasn't enough, I'm like fuck you and uhh fuck her too!" _

"Stop singing. Right now."

"_Said if I were richer, I'd still be with her!"_

"Stop. Stop. Stop." He held his hands over his ears and burrowed in the covers.

She turned the music emitting from the alarm clock near the bed and stood up.

"Don't even think about it." He growled.

She didn't listen and started jumping up and down, creating bounces and jerky movements. She sang loudly-and poorly, raising the volume whenever he protested.

"Why did you bring that contraption into _my_ house?"

She got down on her knees and rubbed her face and hands all over him, squealing happily and tickling him. He tried to resist but her happiness was contagious. He grinned up at her and caught her lip in between his. She stopped squirming and relaxed in his arms. It was peaceful.

**-X-**

The changes were subtle and barely noticeable. She stayed over that first night, and then every night following it. It had been hard to change his sleeping routine from curling on his side to lying on his back, but she curled into him so nicely that he found it was worth it.

Another change that happened unexpectedly was July turning in August without them even realizing it. Time was passing and although they hadn't been on another date since their first, they talked about the possibilities all the time.

"We could go to that place! The one that…the one with the, uh…"

"The aquarium. You wanted to see the aquarium."

"Yes! The aquarium." She squeezed his hand and continued walking.

One day she came over and he noticed the change immediately. Her hair was shorter, touching the middle of her neck and curling in a more focused way. He liked it and told her so without much consideration, but she seemed to like that he found it pleasing. It was as if she had done it just for him. He hadn't even mentioned that he liked girls with shorter hair more-she just knew.

Another day, while he was lying outside to cool off, she had come out to join him and yanked off her shirt, revealing a bright blue bikini. She had proceeded to throw a cup of water on him and then run away, repeating it until he got up and chased her around the house with a glass of his own.

Some changes were quiet; sitting side by side on his back patio and watching the water move evenly around its course. They drank tall cups of wine and she read until it was too dark. Sometimes they fell asleep out there and woke up with dew on their eyelashes. Those changes he didn't mind. Liked even.

But the changes he found most surprising were the ones that took place in himself. He had been sober for two months now; he was less angry and more awake. He didn't mind her company as much as he used to and he shared the cooking with her.

All was well.

_**Hermione:**_

There was a feeling in the pit of her stomach. She was lying on her back in Draco's bed and she felt it come on before they started fooling around. Afterwards he rolled off her and tried to pull her into a cuddle but she resisted, claiming she was too hot. The feeling felt like the rolling of a fan cooling skin. Her sweat stuck to her in clumps and she pushed down, slicking it in unwanted places.

He got her a drink of water but she only took a sip before throwing it on herself instead. She felt unwell but couldn't move. Water rolled off her chin and down her arms.

_Something is not right. Something does not fit._

She jumped up and moved to the side, clutching at herself and hoping she wouldn't vomit.

"What's wrong? Hermione?"

He got out of bed groggily and touched her forehead. She could feel him pull back sweat on his fingers.

"Leave me alone."

"What?"

"Go the fuck away."

And then she could feel him grow angry. He grabbed her arms and searched her face for something he'd never find. She wouldn't let him. She shut him out and looked for her clothes.

"I want to leave."

"Then go."

He shoved her clothes at her and motioned to the door. She dressed quickly and then stood, shaking, unable to leave.

"What's the fucking matter with you? Are you sick?" She nodded and shivered. "Do you…what do you need?"

"My mum."

His face softened and he enveloped her in his arms.

"She's not here."

She cried then and felt awful for doing so. It was too hot for tears-too hot for any of this. But he stood there until their sweat and her tears mixed together.

"I need to tell her…I have to…She…"

"I know." He smoothed her short hair beneath his hands. "I know."

**-X-**

"If you want to jump, I won't stop you."

They were at the cliffs again and Draco stood behind her, close enough that she could hear him breathing but far enough that he couldn't catch her if she lept.

"You…you won't…good."

"Just tell me why."

She turned around and frowned at him, feeling her forehead bunch up in exhaustion.

"I can't."

"Yes you can."

She took a deep breath and closed her eyes, trying her hardest to not see him behind her eyelids.

"You don't understand. I'm so…"

He took a step closer to her and she couldn't breathe. She was so vulnerable and he wasn't leaving. She…didn't want him to.

"Hermione." He whispered and her heart clenched. "I've changed my mind. I want you to stay."

She felt her eyes water and she doesn't want to cry so she tilts her head back and looks at the sky. It's a light day, too light to hold her feelings.

"Why?"

"Because I care about you."

She glanced at him and a tear escaped from the corner of her eye. He brushed it away with his thumb.

"You do?"

"I do."

**-X-**

It had taken getting used to but Hermione found that she liked sleeping with Draco in the other sense of the word almost as much as she liked fucking him. The first night that he had reached out and asked her to stay she had been wary of if it would be good for them both, but soon she was there every night and then, it was August and she was faced with a difficult decision. She left Draco a note on the kitchen table, scribbled in her tight scrawl.

At Madge's place, she put the best clothes she owned on, which ended up being a gray skirt and a white button down. She tightened her hair in a bun and smoothed the curls into place. She looked respectable, but the decision she was about to make was almost too difficult to bear.

She went to Harry's first. They talked for what seemed like hours and finally she hugged him and apparated over to her own apartment.

She ran her fingers delicately over every surface. Her eyes swept every cabinet and wrinkle in her bed. She remembered the day she first got the place, right after her parents died, and she was so sure that she could handle living on her own. And she could. She had bought cheap, mismatching dishes and placed the sugar bowl on the highest shelf. She had made sure to clean every Sunday morning, right after her cup of coffee.

Her hands were sluggish as she packed her coffee maker away. She struggled not to cry as she pulled her duvet off the bed and folded it. Dust coated countertops and she left her fingerprints in the layers.

Then she stepped back and looked around her. It was like that first day, except this time she was leaving. This time she wasn't certain things would be ok. She only knew this was what she had to do.

Harry popped in and helped her apparate it all into his personal storage room. He handed her the key and hugged her.

"This is what you want?"

She tightened her fist around the key and felt the edges dig into her palm. She looked at the empty apartment and nodded. It felt so wrong but she would never be able to let go of the past with a life still waiting for her here.

"This is what I _need._"

_**Draco:**_

It might have been a dream, but he was lying on his side when he thought he heard her come in. The door creaked and her feet made light taps on the ground. The bed squeaked slightly under her weight and there was a small chill coming from her body as if she had walked there, instead of popping in. She's even colder when she slides under the sheets. Then he knows it is not a dream.

Her arms wrap around his shoulders and she cradles him in a position they've never tried before. He keeps his muscles relaxed and acts like he doesn't notice the difference of her being there and her not being there as much as he does.

"Are you awake?" her breath…it… "Draco?"

He rolls over and catches her face in his hands. He kisses her and parts her lips with his tongue. He isn't dreaming, absolutely not, because he recognizes the taste immediately. Whiskey.

"You're drunk." He rolls over again and yawns. Drunken sex is boring, and he isn't in the mood to be bored.

"No 'm not." She slurs and he groans.

"Sleep it off, ok Granger?" He folds into himself and tries to close his eyes but he isn't tired.

She gets out of bed and he listens to her walk out and then into the bathroom. In her absence, he is a little concerned. No noise comes from the bathroom and finally he gets out, worried she hit her head on the toilet or slipped near the tub.

"Granger, are you ok?"

He looks in the bathroom and she's curled up under the sink. She looks up at him and he can see that she's not as drunk as he made her out to be. Those toffee colored eyes are still bright; her mind is still at work.

He kneels down beside her and he would rather be anywhere in the world but here. Because no matter how intimate they have been in the past, this feels _too_ intimate.

"What's wrong?" he manages to get out, finally.

"Everything everything everything everything-"

And he holds her because he doesn't know what else to do. And he realizes, though they've spent nearly every day together for almost three months he hardly knows Hermione Granger at all.


	12. Toothbrush

**Disclaimer: ****All characters, places and things but those I create myself belong to J.K Rowling. **

**A/N: I suck. Not only has it been awhile, but also this is really short. I hope you find it in you to review anyways. I apologize but I have midterms, papers and projects due. After that I plan on another really long chapter. This was almost like a teaser ;]**

**August**

_**Hermione:**_

Their second date was on August 5th. This time, _she_ had asked _him_. He was eating an apple that was bleeding red juice, leaning against the headboard and smiling. He had chewed, said yes, swallowed and then took a large bite.

"Stop chewing so loud." She'd begged and he responded by waving it in her face and offering her a bite.

She had swatted his hand away but smiled. The other night was already completely forgotten. This was something she liked about Draco-something she'd never admit to him: He didn't hold onto things. Not her, not her breakdowns or her mistakes. Ron held too tightly and she felt like she was trapped. She never wanted to go back to that feeling.

She constantly asked herself if she was regardless. If she was opening herself to him simply because she knew it wouldn't work out. Then she remembered why she needed the self-destructive relationship and continued.

The mirror in her room was slanted back so she could catch her whole reflection. She wore tight black jeans and a green button down that caught a glint of color in her otherwise toffee colored eyes. She had let her hair down from the ponytail she had favored for the past month and saw that it now fell a little lower from the bob she cut it at. She ran her hand through it a couple times, hoping for the millionth time that she could have been born with straight hair.

"It'll do." She whispered and left for Draco's.

_**Draco:**_

He thought there was nothing left that could surprise him, but she proved him wrong almost every time. She showed up at his door wearing a simple outfit that still managed to flatter her and he felt almost embarrassed for being as dressed up as he was.

"You said…" he cleared his throat awkwardly and shook at his sleeves. "I'll go change."

"I'll wait." And she sat down at the kitchen table, grabbing an apple from the center and playing with it.

Draco studied his reflection in the mirror curiously. When he was fourteen and had to start shaving, he had grown fond of the smooth feeling that lasted for a couple hours and took to shaving daily as the years went by. Hermione briefly mentioned she liked it grown out a bit and since then he allowed stubble to remain. His hair wasn't slicked back anymore and remained chin length, as he knew she liked.

He wondered when he had become the type of man to change his appearance for someone else, and what this said about him but didn't think too much about it. Before he left back for the kitchen he put a little cologne on and tried out a smile.

It had never really struck him as something that improved his face before but he found it was easy to smile when he thought about Hermione waiting for him in the kitchen.

_**Hermione:**_

They held hands, which shouldn't be something weird for her-but maybe _because _it was she, or rather, her and _Draco, _that it was weird.

It was getting dark earlier now, the sign that summer was coming to a close. They had decided to walk to Alfred's, but while walking she got to thinking. Why didn't he ever apparate? Did he not have his license?

She reflected on when she herself had gotten it and realized that this was most likely the case. It didn't bother her, but she could tell it bothered him. She apparated them everywhere, and in a sense it was like her Dad always needing to drive the car, even though her Mum was a better driver.

"Hey Draco?"

He looked down at her briefly and a look came upon his face that was almost like her knew what she was thinking.

"Yes?"

"Do you…I mean…never mind."

She clamped her mouth shut and hoped that he didn't press her further.

"Yes?"

She mentally kicked herself for opening up a potentially sensitive subject.

"Do you…apparate?"

"No."

But his back stiffened and he released her hand.

"Well, I'm sorry I asked, I just-"

"It's fine."

He grinned down at her and she was taken aback by it.

_**Draco:**_

__How horrible could it be to tell her the truth? To just let her know he no longer had any magic at all?

Bad. Very bad.

But he found that he was tired of lying and that he was running out of excuses for making her do everything magical for them. He was tired in general, but he kept going anyway.

_**Hermione:**_

She couldn't remember the last time she had sat down for a meal that included candles and low lighting in a room that was perfectly still. Alfred had taken a liking to her over the past couple months and she had pulled some strings to get him to open the place just for the two of them.

As soon as she was alone she whispered some spells and the place had cleaned itself up. She was proud of her effort, sure that Draco would like it. Instead he seemed antsy and uncomfortable.

"Remember how we met?"

He looked up, his eyebrows raised.

"On a train to Hogwarts. With the two losers you call friends."

"No." she smiled. "I mean _met._"

_** Draco:**_

"Do you?"

His eyes focused around the light lighting and he squinted in her direction. She really did look lovely tonight, and he wasn't sure if he had told her that yet.

"You look very nice tonight."

She blushed and pushed some wayward hair behind her ears.

"Thank you."

"And yes. I remember. I won, by the way."

"Won?"

"That rice eating competition."

"You're lying."

"No I'm not."

She cut a piece of chicken and put it to her lips. He winced and she paused, pulling the fork back and put it on her plate.

"What?"

"Well you know, Alred makes this little salad-"

A piece of chicken hit him below his nose and he picked it up from his lap and placed it into his napkin.

"Suit yourself." He said as she picked her fork up again. "I mean if you _want _to eat unhealthy…it's your choice."

She took a large bite, deliberately, and then smiled around the food. He felt a rush of emotion in his chest and looked away.

_**Hermione:**_

"What's this?"

She looked up from the couch where she was reading a book and saw him standing in front of her, a blue toothbrush in his hand. Her toothbrush to be exact.

"That's a toothbrush, Draco."

"It's not mine."

"Of course it isn't. It's mine."

He made a face and twirled it in his fingers.

"Well why is it here?"

She put the book down next to her and looked at him. It was silent and there was a lot of tension.

"I'm here almost every night. I leave books and shirts here on a regular basis. One time even a sock. Why is it so terrible if I leave something I actually _need_?"

"This isn't your home."  
"I know."

Pause. Silence. More tension.

"Do you want it to be?"

The air felt like it was leaving her chest. She considered the idea briefly and almost laughed out loud. Live with Draco? Draco _Malfoy_? She swallowed the laugh and saw that he was serious. His face was still and for a second she wondered if he was joking after all.

"Yes."

"Ok."

**-X-**

Moving out of Madge's place was harder than she had thought it to be. She refused help packing the meager belongings she had brought with her, and after Crookshanks was secure in his case, she looked into the room and wondered if she was making the right choice. Living with Draco was not something she saw herself doing indefinitely, but then again neither was staying here.

"You'll come and visit?"

She had forgotten Madge was even there. She smiled but her eyes were brimming over. Quickly, she swiped at her eyes with the underside of her hand and hoped that Madge didn't notice.

"Of course I will."

It was a lie. She couldn't come back.

"You think I don't know you're lying?"

She winced and let herself cry. Madge hugged her and Hermione let herself breathe in the smell of her one last time.

"Don't be sad. You learned all that you needed to here. Time to move on."

She pulled away and looked at Hermione. She was at a loss for words.

"Well go on." She smiled. "Just know you're always welcome."

With a crack she was gone.


	13. It Doesn't Matter

**Disclaimer: I do not own any of the original Harry Potter characters, nor am I making any profit off of this story.**

**A/N: Oh, hey there! Long time no write? I am submitting this, as I am getting ready for my last exam before Spring Break! I plan on writing one to two chapters over the next week and a half, so I hope that makes up for not writing much. Also, special thanks to The Earl of Sandwich- my newest reader/reviewer. I'm sorry I didn't respond sooner to your reviews but these past two weeks have been SO busy with school. Thank you for your kind words!**

_**Hermione:**_

And so, this was how it came to be that Hermione and Draco lived together. At first it was weird. They both wanted to use the bathroom at the same time, or one wanted to wake up earlier than the other. Neither had jobs, so they were around each other all the time. And this, she supposed that this was how the fighting started.

It started simply enough. She had never before noticed the way that his teeth clicked together when he was reading. How hadn't she noticed?

"Draco?" She looked up from her own book and glanced at him. The clicking stopped.

"Mmm?"

"Nothing."

She decided she could ignore it. And then, ten minutes later, she couldn't.

She cleared her throat loudly and turned a page back and forth until he looked up.

"Yes dear?" he asked dryly.

"Stop clicking your teeth."

"Only if you stop running your tongue over your lips after you swallow."

"I don't do that!"

He clicked his teeth together, twice, and she got up and walked away.

Fighting was what had brought them together, but she feared it would slowly pull them apart.

_**Draco:**_

He saw her sitting by the window, hands curled around a mug. She wasn't moving, her eyes wide.

"Hermione?"

She came to suddenly, her eyes focusing on the spot behind his head.

"Morning." She whispered.

The light washed her out, and it seemed unnatural for him to be there all of a sudden. But it was his house and he went by her instead.

"Hermione?" he asked again. "You ok?"

Her teeth came out from behind her lips but she wasn't smiling.

"Perfect." She whispered.

He wondered how long she had been out there, and realized that when she had gotten up in the middle of the night to go to the bathroom, she hadn't come back.

He didn't know what to say to her anymore. Nothing he said ever seemed to fix the problem she was having, nor did he even know what her problem was. All he did know was that this wasn't the Hermione he knew from school.

He let his hand rest on her shoulder, and found that she didn't even notice it was there. His thumb moved across her jaw and she held his hand in hers for a moment before letting it go and swinging her feet to the ground.

The moment had passed and she laughed, kissing his cheek and running into the kitchen yelling something about breakfast.

_**Hermione:**_

"Remember this?" Harry asked and held up a bottle of Strawberry Hill. A glint of light hit the bottle and reflected the liquid inside.

She stretched out her hands and he grinned, shaking his head.

"Drink straight from the bottle?" he smirked. "We have more class than that."

He disappeared and came back with blue paper cups, decorated with little fish. It reminded her of the pint-sized cups her parents had for mouthwash in the bathroom.

She swallowed her sadness with a whole cup of liquid, and felt the warmth spread through her stomach like hot rain.

"Where's Ginny?"

She shouldn't have asked, and knew it immediately. But it was out there, hanging in the air like forgotten stars and she wished…

"We broke up."

She grabbed the bottle by the neck and tipped an overflow into her cup.

"Why?"

He drank a little of his and she drowned hers, almost not hearing his answer.

"I don't know, Hermione."

"Yes you do."

The room started to buzz. Strawberry Hill was cheap but effective, like drugstore Vodka.

"Sometimes people just don't work out. Sometimes that's how things happen."

"What if…what happens when Draco and I don't work out?"

She reached for the bottle again and tried to pour herself some more. He stopped her and they looked at each other for a while.

"Why _when?_ How are you so certain?"

"Don't you know, Harry? I'm a terribly unhappy person."

_**Draco:**_

"Jesus Christ, Hermione. Get down from there!" he wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her down from off the top of the fridge.

"I was just sitting!" she said, and tugged on the hem of her sleeve.

"On the top of my _fridge?_ You could have fallen!"

"It's not that much of a drop."

"That's not the fucking point. It's not."

She stared evenly at him. She was so calm, and he didn't understand. He could not get himself to understand why he cared so much or why she kept doing this to him.

"Sorry."

"You're scaring me, Hermione."

"I'm a scary person."

He threw his hands in the air, speechless. Words formed in his head, like "stay" and "please" but none came out.

He looked at her instead, taking in every pore, and realized how tired she looked. Her hair hung limp and dark circles ran around her eyes. Even her fingernails had dark half crescents at the end. He disappeared from the room, leaving her running her palms up and down her arms.

When he came back she hadn't moved. He scooped her up and walked into the bathroom. Steam curled up from the tub, which he had just filled. Setting her down on the toilet he smiled.

"Right then. Take it off."

She raised her eyebrow slightly and, her eyes still focused on him, she pulled her shirt over her head and continued peeling and yanking until she was naked.

Even worn out, she was beautiful. The curves of her hips to her legs-her breasts to her stomach, held him breathless. She climbed in the hot water and he had to clench his fists to keep from joining her.

He kneeled down beside the tub and kissed her cheek. She began to cry instantly and he cupped his hands in the water, gathering some and then letting it fall over her hair. Her hair grew dark and damp, clumping and sticking to her cheek. The water grew filmy with the dust of her skin, and it seemed to him that she was peeling off into the water. Shedding and flying high above him-running through his hands like the water he cupped.

_**Hermione:**_

She woke up in a good mood. She made breakfast. She changed into clean clothes.  
She watched Draco sleep. His chest rose and fell gently, his lips opening and closing. Taking careful steps, she climbed back into bed and rested her head on his chest. His hand came up automatically and stroked her cheek before falling onto her shoulder.

A change had come over Draco, and she wasn't sure he was aware of it. He had become soft as she had become scary. He rarely fought with her anymore; never had a biting comeback to her jabs.

He was human, she realized. Vulnerable. Scared. And she made him that way. She had broken his proud spirit, and she wished more than anything that she could get it back.

_**Draco:**_

They were fighting again. Or rather, she was yelling at him. He was standing opposite of her and she was holding a plate from one of his favorite sets. He wasn't sure how it had made it to this point. All he could remember was-

"Look at me!" she screamed. "Draco, fucking look!"

She threw a plate on the ground and pieces flew up in crunching shards. He flinched but kept looking away.

"Stop it." He whispered.

"You're a fucking coward. You're screwing everything up."

She grabbed another plate and threw it at him. He dodged at the last second and the plate hit the wall. A piece caught his shoulder and he yelped in pain.

This seemed to catch her attention. She blinked and took a step closer to him.

"Why didn't you defend yourself?" she whispered.

He held up his hands jokingly. She frowned.

"Where is your wand?" she asked. His heart started beating and she came at him, shaking his coat and searching his pockets. "Where?" she screamed.

"Hermione, I don't…"

She retreated from him and he tried to hold on. Her skin slipped through his and his mind was about to explode. How could he explain and still have her?

"You don't…what? What!"

"I don't have it."

The silence pounded in his ears. She seemed to deflate in front of him.

"I don't understand." She said finally. Her voice was caught on something and wobbled.

"I don't have…anything."

"You don't have your wand…because you left it at home?"

"No."

"No?"

It was quiet again. She sat down on one of the table chairs and he moved closer. She held up a hand, stopping him.

"Hermione…I can't really explain. I mean, you know how that is."

Her head snapped up. Her eyes were blazing angry and he knew, at that second, that he wasn't going to win.

"My secret is a whole hell of a lot different than yours."

"But you admit that you have one."

"Tell me everything."

He shook his head and prayed she'd understand. Instead she stood up again and shoved him backwards.

"Tell me everything!"

"I can't. I just can't, ok?"

"Fuck you." She got up and walked into the bedroom.

"Hermione…what are you…where are you going?"

She had come out and stormed past him again, opening the front door and letting it slam in his face, a cool breeze coming in as she walking out.

_**Hermione:**_

She rolled her cigarette in her fingers, listening to the rain. It hadn't rained much that summer, and as September came around, she realized that she missed the rain. She missed London. She missed her flat and her friends, and she missed having her freedom. But what scared her was that she knew she wouldn't be able to leave if she tried.

She put the cigarette between her lips and let it dangle before taking a drag and holding it in until her lungs felt like they might burst. The mist from the rain caused her smoke to extend far into the distance.

Somewhere between that drag and the last, she decided something. She didn't care that he didn't have magic. She didn't want to know why he didn't have magic either. These things had become irrelevant. All she could see was him, cooking for her and their late night smokes; reading on the porch chairs and holding hands while listening to the night breathe.

She stubbed the remaining tube into the ground and threw it in the grass.

"I don't like it when you do that."

She felt him sit down next to her and the space between them was too much for her to handle.

"I don't like it when you lie."

"I didn't lie. I just didn't tell you."

"Why?"

"At first I thought that if I told you I didn't have magic you would get on my back, or tell my family…start trouble. And then we started…whatever this fucking thing is, and I didn't tell you because you…might leave."

She nodded. She knew it was true.

"Hermione…the reason I don't have-"

"I don't want to know."

"You…don't?"

"No. It doesn't matter."


	14. Gone

_**Hermione:**_

They all sat in a lopsided circle. It had surprised her at first that Ginny was there, but there was no tension between her and Harry. They were all ok. She fit in with ease, and she liked that. She had splurged on red wine for all of them, and they had tall glasses with blood colored liquid sloshing around in their hands.

Ginny was showing off a tattoo on her wrist and she couldn't focus on it because there was a slight gap between them that was meant for Ron, who wasn't here. She had fucked him over, and the more she sipped the more she realized it.

"Why didn't we invite Ron?" she interrupted and they all looked at her.

"Hermione…" Harry started and Ginny shook her head.

"What?" she asked. "You can tell me."

"We did, love. He didn't want to come."

Her veins filled with ice. She set down her glass and stood up.

"I'm going to get some air." She said.

London was cooling down from an unusually hot summer. She was sad she had missed it, but relished the rush over her skin anyways. She pulled a pack out of her jacket pocket and tugged a cigarette from inside.

"Want help with that?" came a voice.

Two strong hands surrounded her, blocking the wind as she lit and dragged.

"Since when do you smoke?" she asked as she exhaled. Ginny shrugged and lit one of her own.

"So…"

Hermione didn't know what to say and inhaled again, shaking her curls through the haze of smoke.

"You sorting things out over there?"

"I suppose…" she hissed through an exhalation.

"Where are you even staying?"

"In a house."

Ginny snorted, crushing out her tube too early and letting it fall from the apartment ledge.

"We all have issues, you know. Harry broke up with me but at least he didn't run off without a word."

"I know he's your brother, but you don't understand."

"You're right. I don't. I mean, you're my mate and everything but he's my brother. And all I see is him hurting, and you not."

"I'm hurting too."

"Then why don't you come back and let us help?"

She burned out her own, taking one last pull first. She tossed the remains over the edge as well and then gazed down at the streets.

"I guess I just felt…unhappy."

"But well enough to fuck him one last time?"

"Yes." She gasped, shocked at Hermione's honesty. "I'm sorry that it had to be this way. It's wrong. Ron didn't deserve this. But I didn't deserve this either."

A knock on panel caused them to look up. Harry was motioning for them to come back in. She looked at Ginny and smiled sadly. Things had become so fucked up, so quickly.

**-X-**

"Want to stay the night?" Ginny held a bundle of blankets in her arms, headed towards the couch. "Friends don't let friends apparate drunk."

Hermione looked fondly at her tall, lithe friend and realized how little she appreciated her. She had been so selfish lately, meddling in everyone's lives and messing things up for all of them. She shouldn't stay. She should leave. Leave and not come back.

_**Draco:**_

He was alone tonight, and he found that he didn't mind. He had grown used to her leaving little notes saying that she was visiting friends in London every once in a while. She had friends to visit. He didn't. That was the way it was.

Instead of letting himself sit and wallow, he got up and went to the market, picking up vegetables and spices, preparing to cook a meal for himself.

But when he got back home, the bags sat at the table and he found that it wasn't worth it unless she was here, helping him and enjoying the meal as well.

He put the groceries away and then took out jam and toast and made himself a small snack. And then he waited.

The thing about Hermione was that she was really good at filling the quiet spaces. He had never been good at small talk but she could make a whole night full of small talk if willed. Others were drawn to her because she was a tragedy and people ate that up. Secretly, he liked that in the end she was his and his alone.

But lately it hadn't felt like that. Dating had been an adventure and now it consisted of domesticated indifferences.

A door opened and she walked in, swaying slightly but smiling.

"Hey babe." She said and motioned for him to walk closer.

He wrapped his arms around her waist and kissed her deeply. Her lips tasted like cherries and cheap affection.

"Did you miss me?" she whispered.

"All the time."

_**Hermione:**_

"The coffee is cold."

"I didn't know you wanted some so early. Otherwise I would have made you some right before you woke up. "

"Stop shouting. My head hurts."

He looked at her with disinterest. She knew that he was aware of her hangover, but continued to clang things down with venom.

"Sorry." He said.

She held her cup out to him and he looked down, confused.

"Please?" she begged and let her head fall down on the table. "Please."

"What do you want me to do, Hermione?"

"My wand is in the bedroom, otherwise I'd do it myself. Can you just..."

And then it clicked in her mind and she felt embarrassed. For him not having magic and for herself, for calling attention to it and creating the silence that now hung between them.

"I'll just…drink it cold."

**-X-**

She was walking around in silence. It was nice, sometimes, to have the quiet all to herself. When she was younger she used to imagine quiet as a game, and if she could win it then eventually people would want her to speak and be her friend. It never worked out that way. Eventually she had found magic and Hogwarts but until then, she had a lot of problems.

She was at National Park again, and there was a tree, large and looming in the distance. She couldn't remember the last time she had climbed a tree. The last time she had done anything that reminded her of her family, actually. She didn't realize she had started walking towards the tree until she was halfway there. Then the tree was in front of her and…she grabbed onto it.

She lifted herself up with ease, climbing and tugging on the branches until she was sitting up at the top. And she could see everything. The fields stretched out below her and the sky above. She was at peace. And then she fell.

_**Draco:**_

She came in that night broken, but he had almost become used to it at this point.

"What the hell happened to your arm!" he yelled anyway and she pulled her wand from her back pocket.

"Don't worry." She whispered and muttered an incantation below her breath. Her arm extended back into a proper form.

"Why did you have to wait until you were home to do that?"

"Because I wanted…to see if you could fix it."

"Hermione, you bloody idiot! I can't!"

She shrugged and moved into his arms. He let himself hold her, accepting that this was who she was and wondered when it would get better.

**-X-**

Hermione had said she was gone for the day. That was all right with him. He wanted this quiet. He needed to make a decision and he couldn't have her around while he thought about it.

His first girlfriend was not, in fact, Pansy like everyone thought. He had only run to her when he was horny and desperate. He regretted few things in life, but Pansy was definitely one of them.

But his first girlfriend was a girl in Ravenclaw, who was brilliant and beautiful. Her name was Sarah and her family came from old money and pure blood. They were sixteen, but when they were together they felt much older. When they had been dating for almost a year, he told her he loved her. And she had told him she didn't feel the same. She had stood up from the green grass they sat on and told him that love wasn't meant to be complicated, but if she let herself love him things would soon be that way. And then she had moved schools and he hadn't seen her again.

He supposed that the first month without her was the worst, but since no one had known they were dating in the first place he couldn't entreat for sympathy. He wouldn't want sympathy regardless.

He had become cold to the idea of love. Sarah was right-it only caused complications. He held true to this belief…until this past March. Suddenly an awkward looking girl with curves and a furry cat had streaked into his life and broken all of his rules. More than that, she was complicated, and made him feel insane.

He knew he had to break up with her but wasn't sure how to do so. Where would she go? Was it fair to kick her out when she had no money or place to turn to? She could live at Potter's. Or Weasel's. But would he like the lack of her presence in his home? They had made it so comforting together.

All of a sudden he was thirsty and walked into the kitchen. Hermione had bought them a BRITA, which gave them perfectly clear water. He took it out and poured himself a glass. The liquid felt welcome on his throat, which had been so dusty with thoughts.

He took the glass back to the room where he had been sitting, and something crunched beneath his foot. He bent down and picked up a shard of glass. It was from a plate she had smashed in a previous fight.

And suddenly he was so tired of the fighting. At Hogwarts the fighting had been a sport; they had battled and competed. But they were young back then. And now it wasn't just a game anymore. It was his life. He couldn't keep acting like he was a kid in school when he was an adult now. He had to do what was right. He had to break things off. For good. He was certain.

**-X-**

He woke up and she wasn't in bed with him. He was confused for a minute and then remembered she had plans.

He got out and walked to the bathroom. The hallway light was on, and this confused him. Hadn't he turned it off? The bathroom light was also on, leaking under the bottom crack of the door.

"Hermione?" There was no answer so he turned the knob and tried to push in. The door was locked. He knocked again, thinking she might have not heard him. "Hermione?" he called again but nobody seemed to be there.

He tried to open the door but it wasn't budging. It was as if someone had intentionally stuck it.

His heart started to race and he slammed on the door as hard as he could. It pushed in and he almost tripped over…

And there she lay; on the linoleum squares his father had so carefully chosen when building the house. The ones he had asked his mother for advice over. They had looked through hundreds of different designs before settling with plain white ones. Blood pooled around her from slashes on her arms. He couldn't put together what was happening until he saw her eyes, half open and half closed.

He knew then he wouldn't have broken up with her. He would have stayed with her because she stayed with him. They stayed together. They were constants in a world that didn't make sense to either of them anymore.

"Hermione!" He knelt on the ground, knelt in her blood, knelt in something that shouldn't be there, something that didn't fit and tried to feel for a pulse. "Hermione, no! No no no no…no." he was screaming and tears were mixing in with her blood, which had moved all over his favorite sweater-the blue one she borrowed so frequently.

"Help! Somebody! Somebody help!" His voice rang around the otherwise empty room, and he felt so helpless. There was nobody but him there and he didn't know what to do. He couldn't fix her. This time, maybe she was gone for good.

_**Hermione:**_

She was tired. She was aware of being in a bed and that she was wearing something thin and short, but nothing else.

**-X-**

She couldn't see her arms, only sun coming in through a window. She was dazed, unsure of where she was.

_Hermione…are you awake? _

She shook her head, feeling the words bang around in her mind. She was tired. She needed to go to sleep.

_**Draco:**_

He was out of smokes. He sat on a park bench outside the hospital, but he couldn't even smoke like he had intended.

"Hey…can I sit here?"

It was the female redhead. The gangly and awkward one. And she wanted to sit next to him.

"No."

She sat anyway and pulled out a pack of Camels. She handed him one and lit it with her wand, looking around for Muggles before she did.

"So she's been living with you, then?"

It came out as a statement first, question second. She had maybe known for a long time, but wanted to be sure.

"Yes."  
"So then you know, that person in there isn't Hermione. Not really."

"Yes." He flicked the end with his finger and held the ashes in his palm.

"This one time, when I was a first year and she was a second year, we were playing hide and seek at the Burrow-childish, really; we were too old for those sorts of games, but we played anyway. Well, Hermione managed to hide from me for a long time, and I couldn't find her no matter what I did. And so I asked Harry to help me and we found her…hiding underneath the kitchen sink, reading. And when we found her she looked at us with those eyes…you know what I'm talking about? And we never played that game again. I was afraid I would become lost like she had. It didn't make much sense really. She wasn't really gone, but all the same...I didn't tell her that though. I just told her the game was boring." She inhaled and exhaled, letting there be silence before continuing. "Anyways, I think she never stopped playing. She wasn't very good at being magical one second and a Muggle the next. It confused her. She hid a lot of herself on both sides. But these problems…the ones that put her in there…they didn't start until the war. She's going to need our help fixing herself, Draco. She's going to need you."

"No."

He stood up and threw his still burning remains in the street and then turned to her.

"Did you know that she apparated us here? I didn't do it. She waited until I was in the bathroom because she knew I would find her. She wanted me to see her like that. So no. I'm done. I'm absolutely done."

He started walking. To where, he wasn't certain.


	15. Get Better

_**Hermione:**_

"What are you thinking about?"

"My Mum."

"Go on."

"She…she didn't understand the war. Not at all. I explained to her and Dad the summer before my fifth year. But they don't…well…you know. She could understand the wars in America, with guns and bombs and casual deaths…but it was like, because she wasn't magic she didn't get it. She didn't take it seriously."

"I see."

"You do?"

"Yes."

"Oh. Well. Good."

She wrapped her sweater close around her chest. It was the only piece of clothing besides her hospital gown she was allowed to wear. Hospital pants and a scratchy thin shirt to match. Both were a light yellow, like her room. She had a new set to wear every day, and her sheets were constantly clean and smelling like roses.

Today her schedule was easy. She had her counseling and then she was allowed to read. But first, she had to take her pills. She could never forget to take her pills.

"Hermione?"

"Yes?"

"I think we're done for today. Do you want to go read?"

What _did_ she want to do? Oh, right. She wanted to read. Of course. She smiled and nodded, her mind a thick haze. _Concentrate on your book_, she told herself.

Mark took her hand and helped her up from the chair. Her legs felt a bit wobbly but as soon as she took her pills it would get better. _I thought I was going to go read?_ She shook her head. _No. Pills. Got to go take my pills_.

He opened the door and she walked out. The hallway seemed too far of a stretch but she made it. Her room, full of roses-a field of roses, and it was all hers.

She sat down on her bed and picked up the first jar of pills. She opened it, shook out a pill, screwed the cap back on and repeated for two more jars. She popped them all in and then took a sip of water. Then she waited.

It had been a week and she had grown used to the waiting. Waiting brought change. She waited for her pills to work and when they did she could sleep again. That was good.

Draco hadn't come to visit.

**-X-**

"Did you sleep well last night?"

"I did."

"Did you have any dreams?"

"I did."

"Tell me about them."

"Well, there was only one dream really…"

"That's ok."

She rubbed her arms, suddenly cold. St. Mungo's kept the insanity wing extra airy. As if noticing her discomfort, Mark got up and closed his office window.

"It all starts with me in the backseat, my Dad and Mum driving. But I don't know where too. And then we're going through a wind tunnel and suddenly the car is a convertible. The wind is rushing through my hair but I'm not excited. My Dad yells back to me, "See? It's all ok!" and then _I'm_ the one driving. Except I don't know how to drive. And I crash into the side of the tunnel."

"Do you die?"

"No. But my parents do."

**-X-**

Today she's allowed to go outside. She chooses a bench that overlooks the rest of the patients exercising. It's refreshingly warm for the middle of September. She enjoys that. It's been two weeks since she's been admitted.

She sees a daisy coming up from a crack in the pavement, and even though it's wrong, she picks it out and rubs it between her fingers.

"Being different will get you nowhere, little guy." She whispers. "You should have grown out there with all of your friends."

She tilts her head back and lets the breeze ruffle her hair. She imagines she's back to that moment at the top of the tree, before she fell, where she could see everything. _I'll be here forever_, she thinks and puts her hands over her eyes.

**-X-**

"Not going to talk today, I see?"

She focuses on the individual wrinkles of Mark's face. How old is he? The parenthesis surrounding his mouth suggests somewhere in his forties, but his eyes still glimmer with the hope of someone in their twenties.

The truth is, she really _doesn't_ want to talk today. It isn't Mark. It isn't the hospital. It isn't the presents her friends leave her or the jell-o in little plastic cups. It isn't anything in her life that is upsetting her. It's what she doesn't have. Or rather, who.

"Can I leave?" she finally manages to get out.

"See you tomorrow, Hermione."

And she knows it's true. She'll see Mark tomorrow, and the next day and the next until somehow, everything inside of her is rearranged and fixed.

**-X-**

She's sitting on the bench again, and it's not as warm as the other day, but that's OK. It's quieter today as well, and she's just thinking she might go inside when Ginny is standing in front of her.

"Afternoon." She says and bites her lip, as if unsure the phrase is appropriate to say in front of a crazy person.

"How's the real world?" Hermione finally asks and tries a small grin.

"Fine!" Ginny sings and moves to sit down next to her. It's pleasant for a bit, almost like old times. "Well, I don't know actually. The thing is…Harry and I…since…well…I don't know what we're fucking doing anymore. I mean are we going to get back together? Are we together right now? If so, are we about to break up?" She shakes her head a little and continues. "Sometimes I'll be thinking all of this and it's like he can read my mind. I really believe that. Is that normal? Is that…" she drifts off.

It's blindingly silent as Ginny realizes her mistake. She shrinks in her embarrassment. Hermione decides to just put it out there.

"You think that you're going mad so you've come to check what a real mad person looks like."

"No!" She immediately protests, and then sighs. "Yes."

Hermione turns to Ginny very suddenly and looks serious. She grabs her shoulders and looks directly at her. Ginny's eyes widen.

"Listen very carefully, Gin. You need to go to Lord Voldemort right now and ask him to forgive me. He's got my toilet pass, you see."

Ginny blinks once, twice and then they both laugh until Hermione feels like her sides will split.

"What are they fucking giving you?" Ginny smiles.

"Listen, Gin, in all honesty. Why don't you two just talk about it?"

"Oh, well…I don't know."

"I think we've made our problems very complicated, and Mark says-"

"Mark?"

"My counselor. He says that if we just learned to communicate, then nothing would be complicated anymore."

"That's not really how it works, Hermione."

"It could be."

**-X-**

"I want to focus on something different today."

"Go on." She teased. He smiled.

"Actually, I want you to tell me what you want to talk about."

She felt uncomfortable all of a sudden. In the two and a half weeks she had been talking with Mark, she had never talked about something without his prompting. She wasn't sure she knew how.

"I don't have anything I want to talk about."

"Sure you do. Every one does. Just…take a moment to think."

So she did. She thought about her day yesterday, and the safe, gray meatloaf she was forced to eat with the apple juice from a can. She thought about how her nails looked beaten down from chewing on the ends but she wasn't permitted to cut them or file them.

Mostly she thought about Draco. About silence. About how it was possible for the two to exist together. Even when they were schoolmates, they had verbally sparred all the time. There was never just _silence_. And yet…and yet…

"My boyfriend hasn't come and visited me. I don't think he's even my boyfriend anymore."

"Is that what you wanted to talk about?"

"No. I just wanted to say it."

**-X-**

"Look, Ginny, I'm not asking for much. I just want a damn fag."

"No. They aren't good for you."

"When has _that _ever stopped me?" Ginny stood up to leave, hugging Hermione tightly. "I know you have some on you." She growled.

"No I don't."

But she swore she could see Ginny light one as she walked away.

**-X-**

She lay on the bed and stared at the ceiling. She hated the ceiling. It was completely smooth; no tiles texture or color. As if a little color might make someone want to bash his or her skulls in. She was missing dinner just to think about how much she hated the ceiling.

What did the ceiling in her old flat look like? What did the ceiling in Draco's place look like? She had never noticed because she didn't think it was important. Now, however, she couldn't imagine anything she wanted to do more than go and look at his ceiling and just sleep.

Instead she closed her eyes and slept, staying exactly where she was.

**-X-**

"When do I get to go home? I want to talk about _that_ today."

"You don't have a home anymore, as I recall. You sold your flat."

"I was living with my boyfriend in Ireland."

"And you think it's best to go back to that…environment?"

"He was doing nothing wrong! It was me that was fucked up, not him."

"Then I suppose you'll go home when you feel like you're ready."

**-X-**

"Tell me, when did this all begin?"

"When did _what_ begin, Mark?"

"The feelings you are describing."

She knew where it all started but the words to express them lodged back in her throat. How could she express all of the sadness and loss she felt when it wouldn't make a difference? It wouldn't change things. She shook her head and kept silent. Not all things were easy to share.

-**X-**

"I brought you a book."

"Thanks, Harry."

She took the book from him. It was one she had been meaning to read for a while now. Smiling she flipped through the pages and watched the words appear and disappear like magic. All of their problems were solved at the end, but she didn't have that. Where was her ending?

Harry sat on the edge of the bed and took her hand. He was warm, almost sweaty, but in a nice way.

"Are you getting better?" he asked.

"Define better."

She hated when people asked her that. As if she could suddenly step outside herself and check all of her parts like a clock to see if they were working again. It didn't work that way.

"Hermione, I have to tell you something."

But then a large figure stepped in the door. She recognized the scent immediately, and even still…even after everything, her heart raced when she saw his face. She still loved him. It wasn't enough.

"Ron."

Harry looked up and got off the bed.

"I'll be back later." He said and left.

Hermione fidgeted uncomfortably and focused her gaze on the bumps that were her feet under blankets.

"So you're a loon now, yeah?"

"Yeah."

He smiled and sat down next to her. His hand found hers and tangled the two of theirs together. It was nice, she realized. They still fit together so perfectly.

"I love you anyways."

"I love you too."

His smile this time was sad, and she felt bad for the thoughts he was probably having.

"Tell me that we'll be together again."

"I can't."

"But you just-"

"Ron."

His face aged under the soft light of her room. She wanted to cuddle him and keep him safe from any more hurt, but that wasn't how things worked either. Sometimes in life you had to do what you could, and hope that it was good enough.

"I can't be without you."

"Don't tell me that. Don't do that to me. I went mad when I was with you! I can't do it again."

"You're making _me_ mad, Hermione. And that's exactly what love is."

**-X-**

"I've been told you had a couple visitors yesterday."

"I did."

"How did that go?"

"It went, I guess."

"Hermione, you can't be closed off with me. You're not letting me help you make progress."

This made her unhappy. On the one hand, she wanted to be well enough to go out on her own but on the other, she just wanted to hold all of her secrets to herself. Sacrifices had to be made.

"Ok." She breathed. "It was miserable. I didn't get to see Harry for that long because my ex came and I still love him. But not enough to be with him, and certainly not as much as…Draco."

"You've never told me that you loved Draco before."

"Oh." She was startled for a moment and reached into her mind, pulling forth memories and thoughts. "I guess that's the first time I've admitted it to myself as well."

"Does he know you love him?"

"No. He doesn't love me so what would be the point of that?"

**-X-**

"What's the date, Mark?"

"It's October 4th, Hermione."

"I've been here a month."

"That you have."

"Sometimes it feels like I'll never leave."

He frowned and put down his pen for a moment.

"Progress isn't determined by time. We've discussed this multiple times."

"But it isn't fair that _my_ progress is determined by time."

**-X-**

Harry came in when she was almost asleep. She was curled in fetal position and he lay beside her, spooning her tired frame. It was strange, but he seemed to know that she needed it. She exhaled in happiness and he pulled her closer.

"Please get better, babe." He whispered.


	16. Remember

_**Hermione:**_

It had been five weeks before she was able to admit anything significant to Mark. It was a Friday, and she was thinking about how Ginny was coming to visit her later. Mark watched her pull at her cuticles, wincing when a long strip peeled away like the skin of an apple.

"Hermione." He said.

"Mark."

He waited for her to stop before continuing.

"I want to talk about Draco today."

She didn't say anything but her mind moved in a thousand different directions.

"Tell me about when you first met him."

"I've told you this before."

Mark shook his head and took her hand between both of his.

"Not in Ireland. In Hogwarts."

"Oh."

And so she told him about _Malfoy, Draco Malfoy_, and how he introduced her to the term Mudblood every time he saw her.

"And you love this boy?"

"I love that _man_." She corrected. "I know it sounds strange, but he isn't the same. I think it's because his father is in Azkaban and he has the freedom to be who he wants." She bit her lip. "And maybe I had some influence on him."

Mark didn't have anything else to say after that.

**-X-**

"Ginny, I really don't think that-"

"When did Hermione Granger become so afraid of breaking the rules?" Ginny teased and pulled off her shirt.

"I've always hated breaking the rules!" she bleated angrily. "Just because I'm sodding crazy now doesn't mean I have a different personality!"

A spray of water showered the front of Hermione's shirt as Ginny catapulted herself into the lake that was at the bottom of the hill facing her room's window.

"Hermione." Ginny said when she had bobbed back up to the surface. "You're the one that wanted to get away from St. Mungo's for the afternoon-"

"Yeah, _get away_, not kicked out!"

Ginny frowned and stayed in one place, looking up at Hermione's trembling form.

"Something wasn't working for you." She whispered. "I'm trying to help you fix that."

As she looked down at her friend, who was dripping wet but had a big, imploring grin on her face, she couldn't help but smile herself. It was as if they were at Hogwarts again, in the Room of Requirement, throwing jinxes at each other and laughing.

She took her shirt off before she could second-guess herself, and then her pants and socks, which she stuffed in her shoes. The water was ice cold and she almost regretted jumping in until Ginny dunked her head under and all she could see were Ginny's tiny feet.

"Ginny!" she squealed and splashed her friend.

"Come on Hermione!" she said and started to swim to the opposite side of the lake. "Race you!"

Without even a warning, she sped off, her head rising and falling beneath the surface. Hermione followed, happily kicking her feet and wishing this were every day instead of simply _this_ day.

**-X-**

She was reading on the porch, her legs folded under her and smiling faintly. They let her outside more now. As long as she took her medicine-and she always did. The medicine had started to make her woozy-sleep and unfocused. She didn't like it-especially considering how routine it had to be, but she wanted so badly to leave.

"Hey there." A voice said, and an unfamiliar one at that. She looked up, and there was George-tall, freckled and handsome.

"George!" she got up without thinking, wrapping her arms around his neck and hugging him close to her. He moved his hands up and down her back in comforting circles.

"I heard you're in the mad house now Hermione, but I had to see it to believe it!" he mussed her hair and grinned.

"I'm a real nutter." She said, returning his grin.

He sat down and she followed. Her seat was still warm from before, but the air was getting colder as the month went on.

"So." He said.

"So…"

He folded and unfolded his hands, producing a deck of cards from nowhere.

"Play me a game?"

"Sure."

He shuffled the cards in quick succession, and she thought about how her Dad used to do it the same way. He had never let her shuffle in case she bent the cards. "It's just paper, Dad" she'd say, but it never changed.

The game they played was quiet, but she knew as soon as it was over he'd have more to say. She won, or he let her win, she wasn't sure. And then, as quickly as he had dealt them, he put them away and tucked them in his pocket.

"I'm not sure how to say what I have to say."

She looked at him, her eyes widening. She had no idea what he wanted to say to begin with-like his magic tricks he had come almost out of thin air.

"Just…be honest, I guess."

He exhaled, his breath making a tiny fog in the air, a promise of winter around the corner.

"When I found out that you tried to…commit suicide, I have to admit I was surprised. I mean, _Hermione Granger_, trying to off herself? It didn't seem plausible. You were always-are, so brilliant. You had everything sorted out. Then I was worried-no one mentioned if you had succeeded or not, but I didn't know how to ask. Eventually, I found out you were here and I wanted to come visit. But I think…I mean I know, that mostly I'm angry."

She breathed in sharply. She hadn't dealt with much anger in over the month that she had been at St. Mungo's.

"Angry?" she whispered.

"Yes. Angry." He rubbed his face vigorously with his hands and then looked back at her. "Hermione, some of us don't get a choice if we live or die. Like Fred…like Tonks and Remus…like Dumbledore." He tried smiling then, to take off the edge. "The nicest way to put how I feel is…you should value your life more. I won't pretend I know your problems…and I won't act like some of them aren't possibly bad enough that you don't want to live anymore…but damnit, you _should_ want to live! You've been given a gift…you survived a _war_. Now keep on surviving."

**-X-**

"Honestly, Hermione, I can't see a reason to keep you here any longer."

She could feel her skin vibrate with happiness. The possibility that she could be free…that she could run around and live her life again was almost too much.

"So I can leave?"

"Not quite."

Her heart fell. She was surprised you couldn't hear it thump as it hit the bottom of her stomach. She knew he was waiting for her to ask why but she didn't want to give him the satisfaction.

"I have my reasons."

"I'm sure you do." She said coolly.

"I fear that you don't have enough out there to support you. No job or home…the emptiness and lack of routine would overwhelm you and send you backs here."

"I don't think so."

"Well then, tell me. Where will you go?"

She found that she could not answer. It was true she didn't have anything waiting for her anymore, but she was sure she could find something. Anything really would do.

"I'll just go." She said finally, with a hint of her old assurance and was satisfied with her answer.

**-X-**

She was having a bit of down time when Ron walked in. She hadn't seen him in weeks, but they had left on an okay note.

She put down her book and looked at him pointedly.

"Hello." He said.

"Hi."

He shuffled his feet nervously and she gestured for him to sit down. He chose the chair near the window, one that she had taken to using when she wanted to watch people outside.

"I heard you're feeling better."

She laughed. "You people certainly are fascinated with that idea."

"I'm happy for you."

"I'm happy for me too."

"Listen, Hermione, I came here for a reason." She waited until he finally cleared his throat and began speaking. "I realize we'll never be more than friends, and I'm ok with that. It's for the best. But you need me…and I'm willing to help."

"Help?"

"Come live with me-with all of us. At The Burrow. I know you're probably thinking that it'll be awful and I'll be…me…but…remember when I skipped out on you and Harry all those years ago? I'm not going to skip out on you again."

She contemplated it in her mind and then, her eyes shut, she made a decision.

"Ok."

**-X-**

Mark was sitting on that awful gray armchair when she walked in. It took him a second, but he finally looked up and smiled.

"Hello Hermione. I'm not supposed to see you until tomorrow."

"I know."

A pregnant pause existed between them before he extended his arm to the chair opposite of him. She walked over and sat down. _This is the last time that I'll sit in this damn chair, _she thought, and smiled a little despite everything she was about to say.

"So, how can I help you?"

She wondered, silently, how many people before her had sat in this chair and told Mark things like she was about to tell him. How many people found it worthwhile to spill everything they held so tightly to themselves? But other people weren't her, and she had to do this. So she could go home…so she could move on.

"I think I'm ready to tell you everything."


	17. Magic

**Disclaimer****: If only, if only. But no.**

**A/N: I know a lot of people have been sad that my new chapters aren't as long as I've promised. The reason for that is I am so busy with college/life/pledging, I barely have time to write. And since I am afraid of losing people's interest, I'll submit something really quickly instead of trying to write a lengthy chapter. Hopefully this makes a lot of people much happier :] I love you guys, I really do. This is one of the only bright spots in my chaotic life right now.**

_**Hermione:**_

"Now, if you'll just…well, you know where Ginny's old room is."

It must have been awkward for Molly to have a grown woman back in her house, especially since Ron had come home as a result of their demise. Both of them, in her house at once, didn't seem like a good idea and Hermione understood that. All the same, it was nice. She had lived here, after the war, which seemed like so long ago, but it was the best time in her life. Everything had been right in front of her-all of the promises in the world.

"I know where it is." She smiled.

Molly gave a tight-lipped grin and headed into the kitchen, pans cluttering together for the preparation of dinner.

It was strange, but this wasn't really "The Burrow". Rather, it wasn't the original home that Ron and the rest of the Weasley's had grown up in; that had been destroyed in the war by Death Eater's. This new one was similar in structure and was equally cluttered with happy items and books.

The staircase, which was just as winding as the first house's, took her back up, and she winced as she passed Ron's room. She could hear him rummaging around in it for something, and his smell came out from beneath the crack.

She quickly moved on and softly opened the door to Ginny's old room. It still smelled faintly like her perfume, which made her grin. Ginny never wore perfume, except when she was using it to cover up the smell of cigarettes and alcohol that she sometimes spilled in moments of drunken clumsiness.

Throwing her bag on the ground, she stumbled over to the bed and sat down. It was quiet. So quiet that she could barely stand it…there wasn't even a white noise to focus on.

And then, the door creaked open.

"Hey, Ron." She didn't even have to look up to know it was he.

But there was no one there. And that, she thought to herself, was even lonelier than a loveless conversation.

**-X-**

"Hermione, could you help me clean up the dishes?"

She glanced up from her plate, which was still half full-a rarity in the Weasley house- and gave a wobbly half smile. She threw her knife and fork onto her plate and than carried it over to the rest of the dishes.

Molly had already filled the sink up with warm and bubbly water, dishes magically going in and then rising out as she finished cleaning them. Hermione caught a plate and started drying it with a damp towel.

It went like that for a little while. Then, like everyone else, she too seemed to have something to say to her.

"I love you like you were my own daughter." She started.

Hermione gave another half-smile and continued drying.

"Thanks." She murmured.

"I just…I don't understand. We all have troubles, but I can't understand what you've gone through that tore you and Ronald apart."

She winced and brushed a strand of hair behind her ear, dampening it with her wet fingers. It had gown past her shoulders again, and she found that she missed having short hair. It gave her something to pick at.

"It's nothing I can't handle now." She mused truthfully.

Molly said nothing and finished the last dish. As Hermione was drying she wiped her hands on her pants and just watched her. The dish was set aside and then she used her wand to send the dishes off in their proper places. Hermione smiled. Her Mum would have loved for her to perform that trick.

"I worry about you…or maybe, worried should be the appropriate word?"

Hermione took Molly's calloused hands in her own and smiled as genuinely as she could.

"You have nothing to worry about. I'm fine."

**-X-**

As she was walking back upstairs to "her" room, Ron opened the door for real this time. Her sort of glanced at her and then waved her in his room instead.

It was overwhelming to be back in there, after last time. He seemed to sense it as well because he shuffled his feet anxiously. Then, as she looked up, he came towards her and crushed her in a hug.

"Er-my-ow-knee." He grumbled and she squealed happily.

"Ron, stop it!" she said and he gripped her in a tight headlock.

"Not until you swear we're friends again!"

"Honestly, Ronald. That's enough!"

"Say it!" he gripped her harder and mussed her hair.

"AH! Stop! No!" She tried to pull her head from between his arm, but she was stuck. "Fine! We're fucking friends!"

He released her and she fell back on her butt, scowling up at him.

"Good. Now let's play some chess."

**-X-**

"You cheated!"

"Some of us aren't born with only knowledge to guide us, Hermione."

"I don't support this. Clearly, I would have won."

"Always a competition with you, isn't it?"

"Only because I'm normally always right anyway."

Ron flicked her on the head and she gnashed her teeth at his finger. He grinned and she grinned back and then they both just sat back and enjoyed life.

"This is the best feeling in the world." She said and lay on her back, glancing up at his posters and patchy ceiling.

"It's weird though, isn't it?"

"What do you mean?"

"Well," he said, and picked at his fingernails, "I mean, really we should both be in our own place, with a job and a life…instead we're still here."

"Yeah, that's weird…"

She was thinking it was even weirder that he brought it up when they were supposed to be trying to be friends. She sat up and rubbed her face sleepily.

"I'm going to bed." She whispered and he nodded.

"Goodnight."

She closed the door behind her and walked softly over to her/Ginny's room. The door creaked slightly as she opened it and she stopped to listen for movements from Molly.

"How ridiculous." She scoffed at herself. "As if she cares what two grown people are doing."

She had unpacked earlier, but her bag remained on the ground, deformed and oddly caved in.

Hermione bent and picked it up, letting the faded material run through her hands. She used to have an apartment full of things; now she had only a bag's worth. She didn't even know what had become of the things at Draco's place.

Draco.

She winced at the mere thought of him, wanting to cry and beat the ground. How could he not have said anything all of this time? It didn't seem right. Almost two months and he wasn't interested at all in how she was doing?  
She loved him, and she was willing to bet he had to love her too…so why wasn't he around?

Her eyes started to burn from being up so late. She picked up the bottle on her desk and popped a pill, repeating for the other two. Then she slipped into her bed and tried to concentrate on the silence, letting her thoughts slowly drift away.

**-X-**

Hermione desperately rummaged through her clothes, looking for something to wear. Her and Ginny were leaving in a few hours to go to The Leaky Cauldron, and for the life of her, she couldn't find anything more than jeans and a t-shirt.

A knock on the door interrupted her scavenging.

"Oh, hey Ginny. I'm almost ready, I swear."

"Hey, no rush. We have a couple hours, remember?"

She shook her head and looked blankly at her. She felt bad for being such a space case.

"I just…I just want one night of being normal, you know?"

Ginny moved across the room in quick strides, pulling her into a hug.

"You _are_ normal, silly."

Hermione went back to looking, and Ginny joined her. After a couple minutes of silence, Ginny shrieked.

"Now, look at this!"

Her head whipped around, and there, dangling and slipping through Ginny's fingers, was the pink and spotted dress.

"Where did you get that?" she whispered.

A pounding silence. Confusion.

"What do you…Hermione, I got it in the closet. It's yours, right?"

"I thought I left it in…"

She couldn't bring herself to say it and instead took the fabric from her hands.

"Go put it on, silly." Ginny giggled and shoved her out the door.

In front of the bathroom mirror, Hermione watched herself as she tugged and yanked her clothes off. She had lost weight again…or maybe gained. She couldn't tell anymore. It didn't matter, really.

The dress slid over her perfectly, resting on all of the right places. She didn't look the same, though.

**-X-**

"Stop, you look fine."

Hermione nervously smoothed her curled hair over her ears and bit her lip.

"This is nuts. I want to go home." She turned to leave and Ginny grabbed her arm tightly.

"It's the bloody Leaky Cauldron. We've been going here for years."

"Yeah, before I was a nutcase."

"More like before you were a coward."

She drew in a sharp breath and wrenched her arm from Ginny. Taking quick, snapping strides, she walked in the entrance and nearly had a panic attack.

Draco was sitting on the barstool farthest to the left, drinking what she knew to be Gin, and picking at something on his suit. Her heart hammered in her chest and she turned to leave. Ginny shook her head.

"What's wrong with you? Seriously…"

She couldn't tell Ginny about her and Draco. Not when she needed her in her life so badly. And how would Ron take it when Ginny inevitably told him? Taking a big, gulping breath, she walked back in and lifted her eyes.

He was looking right at her.

"Ew. What's that scum doing here?" Ginny wrinkled her nose.

"I don't…"

"Here, lets sit really close and annoy him until he leaves."

"Ginny, I don't-"

"Look, here are two seats."

She walked briskly to the seats and sat down, but Hermione couldn't join her. She was frozen. Draco was staring, baring a hole in the middle of her forehead. It was like he was looking through her, rather than at her.

"Hermione!" Ginny hissed.

Whimpering softly, she half ran over to Ginny and sat down quickly.

"What'll it be, ladies?"

Both looked at the barman at the same time and then at each other.

"Fire whisky, for the both of us." Hermione said, surprised at her courage.

Ginny grinned and tossed her impossibly long and red hair over her shoulder.

"Harry and I are back together, you know."

Hermione lifted her eyebrows practically into her hair and shook her head.

"No I didn't know. When did that happen?"

She shrugged and grabbed onto her cup, which had just been set down by the bartended.

"No specific time. It just sort of…fell into place."

She hated that phrase. How did things fall into place, and why did it seem to happen to everyone but her? Lately, for her, it seemed that things were falling out of place and shattering everywhere.

"I'm happy for you." She said honestly, and took a sip of the burning hot liquid.

There was a breeze the ruffled the hairs on the back of her neck, and an impatient voice that muffled in her ear, "In the back. Now."

When she turned her head, there was no one there, and when she turned back around, Draco wasn't in his seat either.

Ginny was impervious, drinking her liquid and smiling. Love made people blind, especially to others.

"I'm going to…" she said, standing up suddenly.

Ginny nodded and waved her off; she was clearly unaware of what she was about to do. People forgot she was crazy sometimes. That was good.

Her dress flew around her knees as she stumbled into the back, her head buzzing a little from the alcohol. She pushed open the door that led into the back alley and practically fainted from the fresh air.

There he was, leaning against the wall closest to the door.

His hair had been cut short, slicked back into his old fashion. He had clearly shaved, his face practically shining. But the biggest difference was his eyes, which were cold…just as ice-like as they had been in school.

"Hi." She whispered. His face whipped in her direction.

"So, you're out now, are you?"

She could barely believe she was able to stand on her shaky knees. They were knocking together so violently that she could feel them bruise.

"I…yes. I'm better now."

"Better?" he snorted. "Right."

She was angry, then. How dare he go practically two months without speaking her and then try and act like nothing had changed.

"Oh, hey, Malfoy, good to see you as well. It's been, what, two months?"

"Sorry that we all don't have as much free time as you, Granger. The majority of us can't afford to lay around in the nutter for months and do nothing with our lives."

"Fuck you."

"We've been through this before-you already have, remember?"

"And look where it got me."

"Are you honestly blaming _me_ for your problems? Stupid bitch."

She shoved him, feeling his head and back crack on the wall.

"Maybe if someone had cared about me, instead of using me for a good fuck, I wouldn't have gotten to the point I was at."

His eyes widened. He stared at her in silence and she breathed heavily in anger. She could kill him. She could-

He cradled her face in his hands and brushed his lips over hers. When he pulled back he looked slightly sad, and his eyes weren't quite as mean.

"I loved you, so much." And then, as quickly as if he had apparated-which she knew was impossible, he disappeared, running away in silent steps.

She let her fingers rest on her lips, still aching from his soft kiss. It felt like hours before she heard someone come out and stand beside her.

"What are you doing? Your whisky has gone cold."

Ginny put her hand on Hermione's bare shoulder and then pulled back.

"Why are you so cold?" she murmured.

"I'm sorry. I don't know what I'm doing."

_**Draco:**_

He had never felt like this in his whole life. He felt like his ribcage was about to pull apart and his lungs were swelling to be too big to fit in his chest. He couldn't breathe.

But he could run.

He ran the entire way home, grateful for once that he didn't have magic to apparate with.

When he reached The Manor, he stumbled inside, entirely sober, but drowning in his own sorrows.

"Draco, sweeties, what are you-"

He pushed past her, running up the stairway and falling into his room. He broke down to his knees and let out a dry, painful sob.

_I love her,_ he thought. _I love her I love her I love her I love-_

And then, a cracking in the air, as a putrid smell filled the room. He choked on it, still not able to breathe. When he looked up, it was like falling back into an old nightmare. There she was, the old hag, in all of her rotting glory.

"Hello, Draco."

"Leave me alone!" he screamed. He couldn't believe she had come at this very moment, to chide him about not being in love.

"I've come to give you your magic back."

His eyes almost exploded out of his head. Rubbing them back in, he whispered silently, "What?"

"You have known love, and someone has loved you, and so the curse shall be broken."

"I don't…what are you…I'm _alone_. Can't you see how unloved I am?"

"Not all love is everlasting, Draco Malfoy. Just because it no longer exists, does not mean that it never was." A great weight sank into his body, the burden of magic and he was so, so close to breaking. His wand fell into his open hands and she started to shimmer out.

"Wait!" he called. "What do I do? What do I fucking do?"

"Live your life with the knowledge of what you have learned."

And then she was gone.

_**Hermione:**_

The week passed in a rush, but not an unpleasant one. Molly kept her busy, cleaning and preparing for meals. It was strange, but she felt oddly calm, as if a balance in the world now existed. Something big had happened, and it made her at peace.

It was November 12, and her, Ron and Ginny all sat around a nicely lit fire.

"Hey Hermione," Ron said, picking at something under his nails.

"Stop that." Hermione said, slapping his hand.

"Anyways," he resumed, "Why is it that the older you get the more you stay in?"

"Staying in is under rated, Ron." She said. "Now stop it, I have a hangover."

He grumbled a bit, but obliged, and it was a funny thing…a curious thing…but they were all silently communicating with each other. They were all so…perfect for each other. In all of the chaos of her every day life, she had almost over-looked how lucky she was to have such amazing friends.


	18. Mother

**Disclaimer: If you recognize it, it isn't mine.**

**A/N: So, thank you to all of the wonderful, spectacular reviewers. Nothing makes me happier than seeing people who love my story this much. If you're new, thank you for joining me. If you've been here all along, thanks for not losing patience. And another thing-my story is four months old today! Yay? Ok, well, one last thing: I'm not updating the chapter until I've reached 150 reviews. Does that make me greedy? Maybe. I just want to see if it's possible.**

_**Draco:**_

Draco's mother died on November 17th, a Friday, in the early hours of the morning. Death is funny that way. One minute you're getting out of bed for breakfast, and the next you swear you'll never eat breakfast again.

He wouldn't touch her and feel that cool skin; instead he alerted officials and waited in his room until he heard people come and take her to be prepared for the funeral.

What was even funnier than death, was that he was still alive. Now an orphan, (he didn't count his father a parental figure anymore) he was left with decisions to make. Decisions he never wanted to deal with.

His mother wasn't around to scold him, so he pulled out a pack of cigarettes and grasped on in his fingers. Using his wand, he lit the tip. It was the first time he used magic since he had gotten it back.

The smoke filled the room, and he walked over to his window, opening it and tossing it out, unfinished.

He thought of nothing but Hermione, even though he should be mourning his mother. The truth was, though, she had been wasting away for years. It was better this was-she was at peace through death. Hermione, though, was alive and he loved her so much that he could feel her pulsing through his veins.

The air from outside had seeped in and now rested on his forearms. It was cold in a way that made him want to breathe in until it hurt-until his lungs popped like balloons. He wanted to go see her. He wanted to apologize for never showing up while she needed him...for abandoning her.

But how could he just do that? How could he just…apparate over, and expect her to respond well?

He couldn't.

And this made him so tired that he fell on his bed and slept for a very long time.

**-X-**

It was while dissecting the contents of his mother's will with the Ministry of Magic that Draco found out his mother had left him something. He had never thought she could have anything more to give him than what his father had dumped at his feet, but they handed him a key, and then a date was set for the funeral two days from then.

She had died from "natural causes", but he knew it was his father's absence that really set her off.

He put the key in his pocket and apparated home.

Who gave a _key_, without instructions, to their son? Who never even _hinted_ that there could be something for their son to hold onto after their death? His mother was the one person who really and truly loved him his entire life, but in her death she had let him down just like his father.

**-X-**

"We are gathered here today, to remember the life…" _To remember the life? Or to celebrate her death? _"Though her body may decay, her spirit lives on in the heart of her only son, Draco…" _And what a comforting thought that is. As if there wasn't enough pressure to make the right decisions._

Her coffin was a dark and deep brown, almost blue in the soft dusk light. As the earth engulfed her tiny little world, the edges of his vision blurred and he watched her leave her him for the last time, and wondered what could have been done differently.

People left him standing at her grave for a long time. One by one, they went back to their lives-none of them able to deal with his sorrow longer than required. He had a brief flash of remorse, as he wondered, if this was how the family of the people he killed felt.

"I'm sorry."

He could recognize her soft form behind him, and he wished, so terribly, that she would press her hand, shoulder or arm against him. He ached for her heat, and instead he got distance.

"Why did you come?" he turned and saw her wearing the most beautiful black dress he had ever seen. Her hair, which he hadn't taken much time to notice at their last encounter, was now wild and long- curly in a familiar and wonderful way.

"Almost a year ago, I needed someone, and instead I got you. I was disappointed at first, that the only person who seemed to be around was a narcissist and spiteful child, who offered only cigarettes."

"Your point, Granger." He seethed.

"That you could really use a cigarette." She took one out from a tiny silver handbag and gave it to him. "I haven't smoked in a while. I don't…but…well…"

He took it from her gently, and she turned to leave.

"Don't make me smoke it on my own." He said and lit it quickly.

"I can't. Mark said-"

He stepped closer to her and took a deep drag. His face moved near hers and he blew softly, feeling her breathe in by instinct. As she released the smoke, her lips moved to his and burned onto them. The cigarette in his fingers crumbled down, but he was sucking from a new form; her light, her lips, her love. She was all that he needed, and it was gone just as quickly.

She pulled away and wiped her mouth. A faint smile on her lips, she said goodbye and cracked into nowhere.

**-X-**

He didn't want anyone touching his mother's things. Though someone from the Ministry offered to come and pack belongings, he refused, and spent three days doing it himself. He could have kept it all, but he wanted to clear her from the house. It did no good to hold onto someone who wasn't there.

The key never left his pocket.

The only things that remained in the room when he was finished were her bed, which he stripped of her old blankets and sheets and replaced with new ones, and a desk-drawer. He walked over to it and tried to pry it open. Seeing that it wouldn't budge, he slammed on it in frustration. Why hadn't he tried to open this sooner?

He tried several spells and then, just as he was about to give up he noticed a keyhole. He breathed in sharply and took out they key.

It fit perfectly.

The drawer slid open with ease and revealed…nothing. His mother had disappointed him again.

As he was shutting it, something rattled in the back. Furrowing his eyebrows in confusion, he reopened it and peered inside. What had not been visible before now became clear. A stack of envelopes was shoved in the very back corner. He reached in and took it out. They were addressed to him, but he had known that they would be.

They were heavier than he expected, and holding them in his hands…seeing his mothers handwriting…

He doubled over in pain and let them fall from his hands.

It was almost unbearable how alone he felt. He was twenty-two years old, and had nothing to show for it.

He picked up the letters and took them into his room. He placed them on his bedside table, but not before taking one out from the bottom.

_My Dearest,_

_ What I have is called Cancer, and apparently it runs in the family. Since I was diagnosed two years ago, I've searched everywhere for a cure, but have found none. Apparently, no one can fix it. _

_ I cannot bring myself to tell you about this disease, but I hope that you will forgive me. It was never my intention to leave you, but you are gone right now, and I figure that now is as good a time as any to tell you everything I've ever wanted to say._

_ Stay with me, Draco. I wish I had the courage to say this to your face, but since I can't, I would be honored if you would listen this one last time._

_ Mother._

The paper clenched in between his fist as he struggled not to rip it in half. What was cancer, and how had it been powerful enough to kill her?

His eyes ached with the need for sleep, but he couldn't. He had four envelopes to open, and he resolved to read them all before letting everything go.

The second envelope opened under his thumb smoothly, and he took the paper out. Her handwriting was lacy and spaced out.

_My Dearest,_

_ It is in these times of pain that I remember your many first days of school. When you were a first and second year, you'd plead with me to make you a lunch to take on the train. Then, the older you got, the more embarrassed you were that I did._

_ Oh, you'll deny it, but eventually I just gave you a galleon or two and sent you off._

_ You grew so fast I could scarcely believe it, and I felt my time with you slipping away as your interests progressed to darker and more adult things._

_ I was always amazed with your high marks. Then again, I've always known how intelligent you are. So much potential lives within you._

_ If you could have watched yourself grow, the way that I did all of these years, you would be so impressed. My only wish is that you will be able, one day, to make the right decision, whatever you believe that to be._

_ Mother_

The letter was short, and he found himself aching for more. It seemed so trivial to drabble on about nothing while she was dying-when she could have been speaking with him instead.

He almost threw the letters on the table and went to bed, but he knew that there would be no sleeping until he had read all there was to read. He wouldn't be able to rest until he knew what she had been hiding from him.

With a heavy heart he picked up the third letter.

_ My Dearest,_

_ The chemo isn't working, and I have very little time left. And so, I'd like to tell you something, and I hope that you'll still love me even after._

_ My name is Abby Frothsworth. I was born and grew up in Swindon, on a farm that my father owned and his father before him. My mother was a maid, and I went with her almost all of my life to help her to clean. When I was eleven years old, I received a letter in the mail that said I was to attend a school called Hogwarts for something I had believed to be fairy tale magic._

_ I am a Mudblood. _

_ My entire years of schooling I was never made fun of for being of non-magic descent. When I graduated, I returned to my family's farm and stayed there, helping. One day, a young man with pale blonde hair came to me and asked for a place to hide his friends. His one friend, a very handsome man with dark hair and dark eyes, was very cunning and convinced my family and I that this was a good idea._

_ As you may have guessed, this man was the rising Lord Voldemort. He and the Death Eaters stayed for many months, in the barn out back. They never interacted with my family or I, until one day I stumbled in on one of their meetings. I overheard plans for destruction and because of that, they decided to kill me._

_ Then, by a stroke of good fortune, the man with the pale blonde hair, asked for them to spare me. He was struck by my beauty and said that he would spend the rest of his life keeping me quiet. _

_ I was forced into marriage with this man…with your father. I was taken from my family and the farm, and thrown into a mansion full of things I did not want or need. _

_ I was very un-happy._

_ And then, I had you. Having you brought color and beauty into my life. But you were not pureblood, and because of that, Voldemort wanted to kill you. In his mind, Mudbloods and Muggles must become a dying breed, and only purebloods could be allowed to live._

_ I was desperate. I wanted you so badly. And despite whatever you may have believed about your father, he loved you in his own way. He made a deal with Voldemort. In exchange for Voldemort's silence about yours and my "un-pure" blood, he would do as he was told, for as long as he was told. _

_ My family was murdered. There couldn't be any traces of filth, as your father put it. And so, you became my only family. We told everyone that we were pure, and because of Voldemort, no one doubted us._

_ Growing up, you took so much pride in being Pureblood, and it killed me to not have actually given you that. _

_ I want, more than anything, to be what you want me to be. But, my dear son, I am no better than what you've hated your whole life._

_ I love you regardless._

_ Mother._

The last letter ripped in half as his angry hands shook. There was a pulsing behind his eyes, but he knew he had to read the last letter even if it killed him.

He pushed the two sides together and read.

_ My Dearest,_

_As I've watched you grow, I've seen you distance yourself from your father and I more and more. You want a life of your own, it's obvious. And that's fine. But, even though you may not have wanted me, you still had me._

_ We have not always gotten along. We've argued about sill things, and you've stewed in anger over them for months before making up with me. I have never expected or asked you to deal with it any other way. Now, however, I am. I hope that even though I've let you down, and you have discovered the truth, you will not stew this time._

_ Life is a fragile thing-and so short, too. One minute you're brushing your teeth, and the next you have cancer. _

_ And if your life becomes as short as mine, which I hope it does not, I do not want you to die with the same feelings that I did. Don't live in vain, Draco._

_ Here is what I ask-my _real _Will and Testament: I want you to love someone, with all of your heart. I want you to accept people for who they are, not what. I want you to accept that not everything is perfect, and that money isn't always the most important thing out there. You have to hold the things you cherish close to you, and protect them. You must try, for me. _

_ I'll always love you, more than anybody else in the whole world. Though I may be gone, I am still here, watching over you. And even if I wasn't the most perfect mother, I still tried._

_ Mother._

He wasn't sure what to do with himself. His whole life was based on one idea-on one concept, and that concept didn't exist anymore.

He remembered his second year, spitting the word Mudblood in Hermione's face. He hated her so much, just because she wasn't perfect.

And neither was his mother.

He had come back to her that summer and bragged about making Hermione cry. He thought she would have been pleased. Looking back, he remembered her turning away, her shoulders shaking. He had thought she had been cold, in his childish ignorance. Now he knew she was ashamed.

All he could think was that he wished he could take it all back. The two people he loved most in life were "Mudbloods", but what did that mean? It was just a word. Why had that word been so important to him?

The letters fell to the floor and he climbed under his covers. He couldn't think. He couldn't breathe.

Everything he had ever known was a lie.


	19. Love Loved

**Disclaimer: **None of the orginal blah blah blah belongs to blah and blah blah making no blah blaaaaaaah off of this blahhh.

**A/N**: Well, I failed. I got 147/150 reviews. BUT, I am not angry. Reviews are nice, obviously, but they aren't everything to me and to prove that here is another chapter in my drawn out tale three reviews early. I love you guys, thanks for those who _did _review-I appreciate it. I'll update within the next two weeks, after I go home and unpack. One last thing-It's going to be summer for me next week and I hope to update once every two weeks AT LEAST. I don't know if it'll be finished by September, but it's a good possibility!

_**Draco:**_

If he had grown up knowing he was a half-blood, what would he have been like?

It was strange, but the more that Draco thought about who he was, the more he saw that all he wanted to _be_ was someone who Hermione Granger could love.

He wondered if they could have been friends…if they would have fallen in love sooner…if it would have been accepted by her friends.

Would they have fought Voldemort together?

Could they have been married? Have a child?

But then…they were so young. Even right now, he was so young. It barely seemed possible.

He hadn't left his bed all day. Wards were set up around his house so no one could pop in unexpectedly.

But if he were to really and truly shut himself up all day, what could he do? The answer came quite quickly.

Cook.

Running downstairs to the kitchen, he realized he hadn't really eaten since before his mother had died. What a strange thing that was: grief took away the need for anything but suffering.

He opened pantry after pantry, taking out ingredient after ingredient. Though he had never cooked in his own home before, flashes of the maid and his mother running around came to him and he instinctively moved to where things were.

When everything was laid out before him, he preheated the oven to 350 degrees. He found it interesting, but not surprising, that he still cooked the Muggle way. Everyone in his life used charms and spells, but there was a deep satisfaction, even though he had his magic back, that came with doing things himself.

First he covered a casserole disk with olive oil, spreading it around until it completely coated the bottom. With the remaining olive oil, he warmed it over a skillet. Adding some chopped garlic, he sautéed until it was lightly browned. With light fingers, he mixed in parsley and eggplant. When the eggplant was soft, he seasoned it al with salt. _Not too much_, he heard in his head though no one had ever warned him of that before.

The eggplant mixture was perfect, and he spread it on the bottom of the casserole dish. He sprinkled some cheese and then spread zucchini in an even layer over the top. Adding a little more salt and cheese, he repeated the process, layering some more with onions, mushrooms, bell peppers and tomatoes.

Satisfied, he put the dish in the oven and set a timer for 45 minutes.

It made him sad that he ate so frequently by himself. He remembered, not so long ago, that he cooked for Hermione. How much she loved to taste his new concoctions. He wished she could try this one-he had always wanted to make it but never did.

The heat in the kitchen became too much and he went over to the big window above the sink, opening it slowly. Winter crawled in and brushed the hairs on his arms.

What a strange time it was to be thinking about Christmas, but he did anyway. It was a month in the future, but he couldn't help but think that it would be the first he had ever spent on his own. He had nobody now, after all.

How long would the loneliness last?

A high-pitched beeping shuddered him back to the kitchen, and he went to the stove, turning the timer off. With over mitts, he opened the door and took out the casserole dish, which smelled absolutely divine.

He pulled out a single plate, fork, knife and cup, setting the table and feeling even lonelier.

Delving out a serving on his plate, he sat and dug in. It was many tastes all at once. Salty, spicy, sweet, chewy.

He ate seconds and then thirds, biting and swallowing until he was almost too full to eat anymore.

The chair groaned as he sat up. There was still more in the dish, and steam rose in swirls.

He wrapped it in saran-wrap and then put it in the fridge.

**-X-**

Draco woke with the worst head-ache, akin to any hangover, though he had not drank a single drop.

"Fuck me." He groaned and rubbed his pulsing forehead.

Although he didn't want to leave his bed he did, walking instead over to the window and sitting on the ledge. He flicked his wand and the window rose slowly, creaking a bit from rust.

"Have I really been gone that long?" he murmured, and pulled out a cigarette.

"You really should quit that."

He almost fell out of the window he was so shocked. Whipping around he held his wand into the girls face, and then sighed as he recognized it.

"What the fuck are you doing here, Weasley?"

"Well it was a bit difficult to get here, actually. I almost gave up. But, you know, you should really double check the floo network next time."

"Right, I'll get on that immediately. Now go away."

"How are you, Draco?" she said and took one of his cigarettes.

"I thought you said-"

"Shut up." She used her wand to light up and then sat down on his bed.

"Get out of my house. I don't want you here."

"What are you going to do? Alert the Ministry?"

"Don't test me."

"Fucking sit down."

He bit his tongue in anger. The cheek of that girl never ceased to amaze him. Then again, cheek was what he loved about Hermione.

He sat back down on the ledge and leaned a bit out the window, feeling the air.

"It's almost winter."

"Skip over the weather small talk. Why are you here?"

"Should be obvious."

"Well it isn't."

She took a drag and laughed, choking a bit before spitting out the smoke.

"You're a mess. And so is she. You need each other."

"No." he understood immediately.

"Draco, please. You don't-"

"Don't what? Understand? I fucking understand a hell of a lot more than you do, _Weaslette_."

"You two were made for each other, you idiot. You can't deny that."

"You're right. We are made for something-for hatred, and violence and anger. For ruining each other. We _ruined_ each other, Weasley."

"Ginny. My name is Ginny. I've called you Draco to be kind, please do the same."

"A name is but a name, _Ginny._"

"Not to me, _Malfoy_."

He smirked and took her cigarette from her fingers, burning it out and tossing it into the air. His mother hated it when he did that. She was always afraid it would light the grass on fire.

"I wasn't finished."

"I am. This is my house. I've asked you to leave many times, but you haven't listened. I, however, _have_ listened to you. And I hear you. But I can't do this anymore. I'm _not_ right for her, despite what you keep trying to tell me. Argument over."

He waved her away and closed his eyes, leaning his head against the windowsill. Counting the minutes, he focused on the cool sensation of wood against skin, praying that she had managed to leave quietly, and that she wasn't still sitting on his bed like he thought she was.

"Have you left?"

"No."

He opened his eyes and glared at her. She looked perfectly at ease in his room, on his bed. In her own way, she was very beautiful. Her long red hair was like a curtain on either shoulder, her skin was like milk. But he wasn't stirred in the least by her presence. She just wasn't his type.

"What do you want from me?"

"Come back with me. Show her you still care. I know you do."

"Can I just…ask you something?"

"Sure."

"How did you…" he paused, unsure. "I mean to say…I think she only told Potter we were dating-er, seeing each other. How did you know?"

"You mean, do all of us know?"

"Yes."

"No."

"Ah." He sighed, half relieved.

"Are you that ashamed of her?" she whispered.

His head snapped up. He glared at her until his eyes felt like they'd fall out.

"I _love_ her. I'm not ashamed of anything except myself."

"That's a poor excuse for staying away."

And then she stood and stretched before turning away and walking out of his room.

**-X-**

If Draco had learned one thing, it was that being alone wasn't as perfect as he had tried to make it out to be.

He strolled though Diagon Alley with his eyes trained to the ground and his teeth fixed together. When he finally looked up, he saw her.

She was clutching a nameless book in her hands, the spine facing towards him. Ron stood across from her, his hands waving about in a gesture he couldn't understand. She threw her head back and laughed, her curls tumbling down her back.

She was beautiful, and he couldn't remember the last time he had seen her laugh like that.

As he was about to leave she turned and saw him as well. Ron's head quickly followed and his body visibly stiffened upon seeing him.

He started to retreat, wanting nothing more than to be in his mansion, by himself.

"Draco!" she called, but he kept on walking. "Draco, wait!"

Her footsteps quickened until they were at pace with his own. He glanced over and saw that she was next to him.

"Oh." He mumbled.

"So, hey."

"Hi."

"Can I walk with you?"

"You already are, or so it would seem."

"Good, thanks."

He didn't say anything and hoped she would leave. No such luck.

"Here, come here."

She grabbed his arm without warning, their bodies sucking into a vaccum with a loud and dizzying pop.

"What the FUCK, Hermione. Did we just apparate?"

But he could see for himself that they had. They were in the National Park at Ireland, he knew without asking. He knew this place better than he knew himself. The places they had fucked, and then lay together naked. The stream they had ran into, the flowers that had tickled their feet.

"Why-"

"Listen." She demanded. "I'm sick of this. I've done _nothing_ to deserve your ongoing spite. I-"

"You've done nothing, have you? So it was somebody else who tried to kill themselves then."

"No. You don't-"

"Understand? I don't understand? Fine, I'm ignorant of your problems. But I didn't have to be. You kept me out of the loop on purpose. You twisted my emotions and used my love for you as a way to manipulate me. And then you tried to kill yourself. You would rather have left me than try to stay."

She stood very still and the breeze carried the faint scent of lavender to his nose. He breathed in and closed his eyes. He could apparate out if he wanted. He didn't have to be human if he didn't want to.

"You love me?" she whispered.

His eyes flew open. She was looking at him in the saddest of ways.

"Loved. I loved you."

She shook her head and stepped closer.

"No. You love me."

"Don't tell me how I feel, Granger."

"Shut up, _Malfoy_. Tell me again."

"What? No. Stop that."

She slipped her arms around his neck and stood on her toes, her breath tickling his cheek.

"I love you." She said. "I never stopped."

His chest hurt, the thought of her being so close, and possibly leaving again killed him.

"Fine. Yes. I love you. But don't you see? Five minutes ago we were fighting."

"So?"

"Everything that happened between us happened for a reason. This is who we are together-nothing is going to change."

She smiled and kissed him, lightly. As she drew away, he noticed for maybe the first time that the outer rims in her eyes had blue in them. He had spent months looking at her, and yet somehow missed this small detail.

"You are the person that I _have_ to be with, Draco." She looked directly at him. "Do you feel the same way?"

"Yes." He smiled. He didn't even have to consider it. "Always."


	20. Telling

**Disclaimer: If this were mine, I'd never want anything ever again. But anything you recognize is not mine, I assure you.**

**A/N: HUZZAH! An update! And I know it's been almost a month, not two weeks like I promised :[ I'm sorry. Please REVIEWREVIEWREVIEW. I appreciate it so much.**

_**Hermione: **_

She had forgotten what his cheek felt like beneath her thumb. The way his lips parted after they kissed, his tongue smoothing over hers.

They hadn't had sex yet, but she _could _remember that; the inside of his thighs, with the dusty smattering of curly hair leading up to his cock.

"Hermione?"

"Mmm."

"Where do we go?"

"What do you mean?"

"I mean…you live at the Weasley's right now…and I live here in my…I stretch to use the word "home", but that's what it is, really."

"Can't I just stay here?"

"Do you want to?"

She hummed quietly, thinking in her mind of what she wanted. On the one hand, the thought of moving to where Draco had grown-where he had run down the stairs for breakfast and opened the back door to go out and play in the mud-excited her. She wanted to breathe where he breathed, and to have him want her there.

But she also wanted a place that was only theirs. Where they had memories that no one else had made there first.

"Uhmm…" she rolled over on her back and stretched her arms to the ceiling. "I want…"

She let herself drift off and concentrated on the feeling of her stomach expanding, her throat filling with air and the concave empty feeling of it disappearing.

"I'm just happy right here." She replied finally, but he had fallen asleep.

_**Draco:**_

Draco had heard before that the longer you are with someone, the less aware of his or her presence you become, but this was not true for him. He felt Hermione everywhere he went.

He could run into her forty times a day and he would still sense the heat radiating off her skin, could still do the math in his head of the distance he'd have to move to brush his shoulder against hers.

When they sat down together every night to read-her a worn paperback and he The Daily Prophet-she was so close that he could smell the wool of her sweater. From the corner of his eye he could see the pulse of her heart beating behind her ear.

There was an expression he once heard, while in Hogwarts. He was walking to the common room, History of Magic under his arm, when he heard two people arguing.

Hiding behind a pillar, he listened.

"It's just weird, Paul." The girl said. "I couldn't get away from him fast enough. How could he not love me anymore?"

"It's ok." He whispered. "Shh."

He could hear the crinkle of fabric as he imagined the boy's hands pulling her close.

"Even now, I can't stop thinking about him. He's gotten under my skin."

He had ran away then, feeling odd about being in their business, though normally he had no qualms about eavesdropping.

It had struck him as remarkable-another thing that he normally didn't allow himself to feel-that someone could be so significant that they became a part of you.

But he knew now. He understood. He could look over at Hermione as she flipped a page of her book and feel the paper beneath his fingers. When she scratched her cheek, her skin was under his fingernails as well.

When she had come back into his life, he realized that she had never actually left. The reason he had tried, though, was because she had gotten under his skin and this had frightened him before. Now he saw if differently. She was under her skin, yes, but his love for her started at his heart and moved through him to his fingertips and toes, carried by the blood.

It was magic, what they had. And though he had lived in the magical world for his whole life, he realized that being with her was the only time he ever really appreciated it.

**-X-**

Draco is looking down at his wand when he hears someone come in, unannounced.

He wraps his hand around it and stands, pointing in the general direction of the intruder.

But it is only Hermione, a scarf wrapped around her neck that she is beginning to take off, her cheeks flushed and a smile spreading on her face.

"Put that down, you ridiculous man." She puts the scarf on the kitchen table and hugs him tightly.

He sets his wand next to her scarf and hugs her back. She smells unfamiliar, as if she's come to him from a distant place.

"Where have you been?" he searches his mind for clues or distinctions she's given him this week, but comes up with nothing.

"I got a job!" she squeals and tucks her hair behind an ear. It's grown so long, and falls in waves over her breasts.

"A job? Where?"

He had forgotten that the world didn't revolve around them, like it did in Ireland. He, too, would have to go back to _his_ job eventually.

"Flourish and Blotts!" she jumped on her toes a little, smiling even wider. "They remembered me from school, and they're a little short handed, given the season."

"The season?"

"It's December, Draco!" she swatted him playfully. "Christmas?"

"Oh," he grinned. "Right, yeah."

"Aren't you happy for me?" she let her smile fall a tiny bit. It broke his heart.

He picked her up under her arms and lifted her up, placing her down on the countertop near the sink. Softly, slowly, carefully he kissed her top lip and then bottom lip.

"I'm ecstatic."

"Well." She whispered, kissing him back. "I am too."

She pulls away but he isn't ready to let her go just yet. He drinks her in, clamping his lips down on her collarbone and sucking lightly. He can feel her breathing out in short breaths through her nostrils, the light air rustling his hair and crawling down his spine.

He makes a small noise that startles them both, and his fingers move lightly up her arms and through her hair. He watches her, her eyes closed and mouth parted slightly. She moves her hands to his shirt, curling them in the fabric. He buries his face in her hair.

Their kisses are getting more desperate now and there isn't enough room on the counter-top. She seems to see the same problem that he does and wraps her legs around his hips, sliding off the counter as he turns and starts walking. She's nibbling and biting his ear until he feels as though he'll burst. He's growing and swelling against her stomach, which pushes against him and makes him moan.

He can't make it further than the table, so he lets her fall on her back, climbing on top of her and tugging at the hem of her shirt.

They lay like that for a minute, completely silent. It's been so long since either of them had been this careless with each other-the first time they had not walked around on eggshells in each others company.

"I want to touch you." He whispers and moves his hand up her stomach. "Can I touch you?"

She nods, squirming beneath him.

"Here?" he whispers, skittering at the air around her breast. She nods again and he cups her breast in his hand, lifting up and brushing his thumb over her nipple. Through her shirt he can feel it harden and she exhales loudly at the sensation. She moves her hands over his shoulders, pulling down a little, but he resists. He finds that he _wants_ to dominate her, in this small way. He wants to show her he can be strong, for both of them.

He's quick to move his hand under her shirt and cup her again, skin to skin this time. He can feel her get hungry beneath him.

"What about…here?" his hand has moved to the top of her jeans, pushing the button halfway out.

She starts, her hips bucking so the button comes out completely. His eyes snap up and they lock a gaze for a second. Still looking at her, he pulls her pants down to her ankles, and then off completely. She's wearing red panties, with lace around the top, as if she knew today was going to be the day they made love.

Kissing her stomach, he played around with the top of her underwear and then pulled those off as well.

Her hands explore his back, shoulders, chest, and stomach, finally resting on the back of his neck. She tugs a little, trying to get him to kiss her, but he smoothes his thumb over the soft skin of her stomach instead. Focusing on a single patch, he kisses and bites and then moves up. He takes her breast in his mouth and clamps down, sucking gently. She moans and all he wants is to be inside her, to come together.

Hermione had once told him that when they were together like this, it was the only time she felt _small_ and fragile. That she liked feeling tiny under his weight. He concentrated on that now, and all the times before this that were so precious and fragile.

She's moving her hands on his pants, pushing and pulling and tugging until they, like hers, are on the floor beneath them. His boxers hit the floor soon after. The linoleum is smooth and reflects the light that bears down on them. The table creaks under their weight.

His arousal springs up between them and he groans with need. Carefully, slowly, five seconds, four, three, two, he moves his fingers over her folds and feels how wet she is.

"Oh, Hermione. You want me, don't you?" he whispers in her ear, but doesn't remember how he got up there.

"Yes." She breathes. "Please."

And that's the final straw. He is quick at first, pushing in all the way and marveling at how tight she is, her walls gripping and sliding around him.

"Oh." She whooshes, and he knows what she means.

They still remember each other.

They still fit together.

"Yes." He agrees and moves his hips in a slow circle, watching her face as she closes her eyes up at the ceiling.

He grips her hip in his palm and pushes in deeper, only to pull back out and repeat the motion. He can't get used to this. He can't-

"Faster." She moans and he complies.

Their hips snap back and forth with each other, skin slapping skin. It's the only sound between them but it's enough. She's making incoherent words and noises slip past the gates of her lips, her eyes still closed, and he can barely hold on much longer.

"_Fuck!"_ he cries out as he comes, exploding and all of his thoughts erasing from his mind.

His breathing is ragged, his heartbeat humming over hers.

He keeps going, feeling himself settle down, and she follows quickly, screaming and gripping his arms.

Exhaustion collapses on him and he falls on top of her, hoping he isn't crushing her.

"Oh, Draco." She whispers, pushing hair from his sweaty forehead. "Thank you."

He would have found that strange, coming from anyone else. But he knows what she really is saying.

"You're welcome." He whispers back and puts his palm over her heart.

She returns the gesture, and they lay there, listening with their hands to the love they had for each other.

_** Hermione:**_

Draco is in the shower, and she's sitting on the couch, curled up and content with reading. The water patters on the floor, and she can hear it through the closed door.

She lets it become white noise as she is immersed in her story, but soon the story becomes white noise as well. Her mind is thrumming, and everything she has blocked out for months comes rushing all around her, ghosts and monsters pick her up to play…

_ She was running, her legs heated from all of the exercise. Ron was huffing beside her and she felt a rush of emotion for him, remembering their kiss just moments before._

_ "Hermione, down!" he yelled and she screamed as a curse skimmed over her head._

_ He grabbed her arm and pulled her around a pillar, throwing hexes and jinxes sporadically._

_ "We have to get out there! We have to help Harry!" she screamed, and a fire erupted somewhere, she could smell the smoke and feel the heat._

_ He didn't respond, but started running again and she followed without questioning it._

_ "Granger! Little Mudblood!" came a screech and Ron turned to her, just as Bellatrix came around the corner._

_ She and Ron drew their wands in her direction, but she was too quick. _

_ "Expelliarmus!" she yelled and Ron's wand flew from his hand._

_ Hermione didn't lower her wand, or check to see if Ron was ok. Her heart ached at the thought of him being disarmed and helpless, but you can't take chances in war. You have to trust yourself._

_ Bellatrix paced around her, and she followed her with her eyes and wand. They circled around each other like cats but Ron did nothing. She couldn't look and she assumed the worst._

_ "I just saw your parents." She hissed, but Hermione knew it was a lie. She didn't respond. "What, don't believe me?" she gave a cruel smile, and Hermione braced herself for the worst. "I killed them." She whispered._

_ "No!" she made herself get out. _

_ Bellatrix laughed cruelly and when she was least expecting it-it always happened like that, didn't it- she fired a curse at Hermione._

_ She felt herself be pulled back, her elbows hitting the floor. She finally let herself look, and it was Ron, starting at her with wide eyes._

_ When she looked up again, Bellatrix was gone._

_ "Ron! My parents!" she whispered and he shook his head._

_ "Hermione, no. She was lying to you."_

_ But Hermione was shaking, her fears overwhelming her._

_ "I have to check, Ron. I have to-"_

_ "Hermione, Harry is waiting for us!" He stood and lifted her off the ground with him._

_ "No, Ron! Stop!" she pulled her arm from his hand as he tried to drag her off running again. "I have to check! I have to!"_

_ And even though it was not the right thing to do, even though her heart twanged as she watched him disappear as she faded, she disapparated in a flash._

_ She was at her house in a matter of seconds. The lawn had grown too much and it was too quiet. She pulled her wand out of her pocket and held it out, lighting up the path before her._

_ She walked inside. The door creaked at her entry, which made her heart jump to her throat._

_ "Mom?" She called. The lights were off and there was a fine layer of dust everywhere. "Dad?"_

_ There was no answer. _

_ She walked into her kitchen and lowered her wand. Slipping it in her pocket, she walked to the fridge and opened it. Her parents had cleaned it out before their trip to Australia but there was a bottle of water, half full, on the bottom shelf in the back. She took it out and shut the fridge. _

_ The water was lukewarm and the fridge was on low. She tried to wrap her mind around how long it had been since they left, and if they had turned the fridge off. Whether they had put the house up for sale when they left their life behind._

_ A noise behind her caused her to turn and drop the water._

_ "Hello, pretty." _

_ In the dark, Hermione's eyes dilated and she tried to focus on the woman before her._

_"Bellatrix." She seethed, her wand out in a matter of seconds._

_ The woman raised her hands, which were empty. She grinned a horrible display of teeth and Hermione shivered._

_ "I'm unarmed. I didn't come to kill you."_

_ "And yet you lured me here…" it wasn't a definite statement, and Hermione was ashamed at how much like a question it came out._

_ "Yes." She said and her smile began to grow even more._

_ Hermione circled around Bellatrix, keeping her wand at her throat. She inspected every inch of her, looking for hidden weapons or devices that would send their position to others._

_ In her mind she knew she should leave, but she couldn't. She was fixated on the crazy black hair, the cruel and empty eyes. What could she want from her? Why wasn't she with Voldemort waiting for Harry?_

_ "You have a minute to give me a reason as to why I shouldn't kill you."_

_ It was silent. Bellatrix said nothing, but continued to grin, a secret prize hidden behind her teeth._

_ Hermione was overwhelmed. Her better judgment finally caught up with her and she put her wand away, focusing on a spot and prepared to-_

_ "I really did kill them, you know."_

_ She stayed in her spot, not even daring to pull out her wand._

_ "I don't believe you." She said simply._

_ "I have no reason to lie."_

_ It was so unlike them to be so calm. Just days or months or maybe even minutes before this woman had tortured her, questioned her about the security of the horcrux that was now destroyed._

_ "Where are they then, Bellatrix?" Hermione asked, fire curling under her tongue. "I don't see them."_

_ But then Bellatrix opened her robes and she saw what she hadn't before. Her mind filled with imagery of her parents, still and pale like the corpses they were. The images rewinded to them moments before they died, then dying, and then laying there still. Bellatrix hadn't been lying. She had killed them._

_ "No!" She screamed and her nails raked down her skin. "No, please, God no."_

_ Bellatrix laughed, a high cruel laugh, and just as she was about to disappear again, Hermione pulled her wand out and screamed._

_ "Avada Kedavera!" _

_ And then she was lying on the floor of her kitchen, which Hermione could remember sweeping as a child, her mother singing and washing the dishes, her father lying on the ground cold and still, her mother's hand wrapped around his like an afterthought… _

_ Her breathing slowed and she looked down at Bellatrix. Her face was frozen with undeserved happiness. Hermione spat on her face._

_ And then her mind, as if it had been driving through passing fog, cleared. She couldn't remember what had happened until she blinked and saw the woman dead before her. _

_ Who had killed her? And then the realization that she had hit her and she was lost. Her parents weren't dead. They were in Australia, touring an unknown place as unknown people who didn't have a child…who didn't know her at all._

_ There was no way they had been traced. No way they had been killed._

_ Hermione wanted to sob but didn't know how. She hated Bellatrix. She had deserved to die. But she had not wanted to be the one to kill her. She didn't like firing jinxes, much less killing curses._

_ "Oh God, what have I done?"_

_ She shoved her wand in her pocket and turned for a moment, putting her head in her hands. She could tell no one. She couldn't leave Bellatrix here._

_ She walked back over to the corpse and took her robe in her hand. Closing her eyes she focused and apparated._

_ She never told anyone._

Her eyes were watering but she didn't want to cry. Mark had told her she shouldn't feel guilty for something that wasn't truly in her power.

And yet, though the war had been over for years, she had not gone to find her parents and reverse the Memory Charm. She couldn't look at them and pretend everything was the same when it wasn't. How could she tell them she had murdered someone in their name?

So she carried it with her, instead. She placed Bellatrix's body next to another Death Eater, and let someone else claim the kill.

And when she ran off to find Ron, when she fought side by side with him and then held Harry after it was all over, she pretended to be relieved. Then Ron was with her all the time, asking if she was ok until she didn't want to answer anymore and he assumed instead.

Something had shaken loose when she killed Bellatrix. She had shoved her love for Ron out of her body in order to make a place for her guilt.

"Are you ok?"

She looked up and saw Draco, shirtless and wearing long pants.

"I have to tell you something."

He raised an eyebrow and sat down next to her. She took his hand and told him everything.


	21. You're So Beautiful

**Disclaimer: Not mine, etc, etc.**

** A/N: This chapter is set in a span of a couple hours, alternating views on the situation, instead of the normal skipping around days and such. Hope it's not too confusing.**

_**Hermione:**_

She couldn't imagine a more perfect morning. Her eyes opened sleepily as she gazed across Draco's chest and out the bedroom window. It was dusky and a fresh blanket of snow had fallen, thin and fragile as Draco's hair.

Carefully, so as to not wake him up, she tiptoed down the stairs and flew out the door. Her bare feet tingled in the crispy snow, but her heart was as light as her first day at Hogwarts. She felts years younger since telling Draco everything. He had looked at her, kissed her and told her nothing was different for him.

He came from behind her and tackled her onto her back. Snow flew in the air around them, spraying her in the face. As she looked up at his face, she could see some clinging to his eyelashes. She kissed his eyes, tasting it on her lips.

"You're so beautiful." He whispered and touched her cheek.

"Where?" She asked, her bare legs shivering.

"Here." He smiled and touched her forehead. "Here." Her lips. "Here." Her heart.

She wiggled under his weight, which was such a welcome burden, and tried not to cry.

"What's wrong?" he asked, his brow furrowing.

"It's all so perfect. Haven't you ever had something so perfect that you were afraid of trying to keep it that way?"

_**Draco:**_

He looked down at her, surrounded by snow and a tear like an icicle on her cheek. He brushed it off with his thumb and listened to her explain to him how perfect he was.

His heart was racing, and he pulled her up. Clumps of snow fell from their skin. She was almost as pale as the white on the ground.

"Promise I'll always have you." She said.

"I promise." He hugged her, and then led her inside.

As she walked to the fridge, he looked out and saw their imprints on the ground. Two dark splotches on a sea of straight and soft. Just a moment before they had been lying there, and now they were gone.

Draco meant what he said, when he promised her he'd always be there. But as he turned from the splotches that were once human beings, he knew it wasn't him that was at risk of leaving.

_**Hermione:**_

She opened the fridge and looked inside. Her and Draco kept it well stocked, often going out and buying food together with plans for the week. She opened the drawer assigned for fruit and pulled out an apple.

Draco hadn't moved from the window, and seemed to be looking at the spot where they had been wrestling moments before. She smiled at his shadow and then walked over to the sink. She turned on the water and ran the apple underneath. It fell in ripples; the red skin of the apple looking like it was bleeding clear blood.

She feels his arms around her waist so she looks up and sees their reflection in the window. She loves that the house is full of windows and clear screen doors. She imagines people looking in and seeing their life, green with envy.

She turns off the water and shakes the apple clear of water. Biting into it, juice dribbles on her chin. He turns her in his arms and licks it off her lips.

_**Draco:**_

Her lips taste so good. He stays like that, touching lips, for a minute. She pulls back from him and takes another bite before extending the apple to him. He bites from it while it's clasped in her hands. She wipes below his bottom lip and then sucks on her finger.

"You taste so good." She says as if it's a revelation.

"I taste like you."

_**Hermione:**_

She ducks under his arms and moves around the room, trying to find something she hasn't seen before. But she thinks to herself that when you know you have something indefinitely, you don't pay much attention to the details.

She hears a clatter in the background and turns around. Draco has dropped the milk carton on the ground, a large amount sliding on the floor.

"Here, let me help." She says and gets on her knees, wand in hand.

"Stop, no, it's ok."

She stands and peers down at him. He's using a towel, scrubbing at the linoleum.

"Draco, I can just…" she siphoned off the rest, and he frowned.

He stood and touched her elbow.

"Thank you." He said and threw the towel in the sink. "Sometimes I forget, you know?"

She nodded and put her apple on the kitchen table.

"I'd always make little mistakes at Hogwarts for the same reason. Going back and forth between worlds sometimes left little space for complete accuracy."

"But it's not supposed to be this way, Hermione. I've _always_ had magic…my entire life…I-"

"Am only human." She finished for him. "Come on, let's forget about it."

_**Draco:**_

He desperately wants to change the subject and deflect attention off of him. He tugs gently on her hand and grins.

"Did you shower last night?" he asks.

"No…"

He raises an eyebrow. She gasps.

"Shall I lead the way?"

She slips her arm around his and shakes her head, laughing.

The water turns on loudly, hitting the floor in big splats. Hermione is pulling her clothes off and throwing them on the floor in tight little balls. As soon as he's checked the temperature, he turns to face her and sees her naked. Her breasts are these high orbs, round and perfect. He cups them in his hands and then lets go. She steps in and he yanks off his clothes, stumbling to join her.

Just as he is about to run his hands along her smooth body, she gets out. Her hair is barely wet, but damp enough to make it darker at the top. He jumps out, not turning off the water and chases her.

She slips a little at the bottom of the stairs before running up them laughing wildly. He tries to grab at her feet but misses.

"Come here, you vixen!" he yells out and hears a door slam.

When he reaches the top all doors are closed. He grins. So this is how she wants to play?

Each door he approaches he waits until he has the doorknob in hand before yelling "Gotcha!" and flinging it open. Every room is empty.

He gets to the last one and then waits. He hears a rustling inside. The sounds of sliding and tugging. It is his father's old study. He hasn't stepped foot in there his whole life, even after he left.

"Gotcha!" he cries and sees her standing there, looking at him. She is holding a stack of papers in her hands, her eyebrows creased.

"You didn't tell me…" she says.

"I tell you everything." He answered simply.

"Not this." She shook her head.

He tried to grab the papers from her hand but she let them fall to the floor.

"What…are you mad?" he asked.

"No. Not mad."

He sighed, his ribcage rattling and his heart beating out of control.

"What haven't I told you?"

"Do you remember," she said and tucked a piece of hair behind her ears. "When we were first talking, I asked you if you liked your job?"

He continued to stare at her, trying to think of some empty gap he had created but forgotten.

"Yes." He thinks he does anyway.

"You told me you hated your office. That you couldn't stand your job but you did it anyway just to have something to do. But you don't have a job, Draco. You manage the estate and that's it."

"How do you know that?" he licks his lips and finds that they are dry. He needs a drink but doesn't move.

"These papers." She motions to the ground. "They're from the Ministry. They say that you can have your father's position. You'd inherit everything of his…you'd even start at the pay he was at."

He finds it strange that they are both already naked but in finding these papers she has made him feel more exposed than he was before.

"Yes. Well."

"Why haven't you taken them up on it? You could do so much with this position."

"It isn't that simple, Hermione." His eyes search her face and she's looking right back.

"Why not?"

"Because I hate…because…it's not…"

"Because, because, because? You have a position that _matters_. You can change things. Don't you care?"

"Yes, I care. I just don't think you see. Don't you remember last year? When I told you that I hated being boxed in? It made me feel so small, Hermione."

She nodded. She took his hand.

"Then what are you going to do?"

_**Hermoine:**_

He looks at her, and he has no answers-she can see that. But how can she make this man who has everything see that all she wants is for him to have a purpose in life?

"Baby…" she whispers and doesn't know if she's ever called him that before. "Baby, what do you want to do in life?"

"I just…don't know, ok?"

She remembers, not too long ago, when they were two people who would argue until one was right. Then, when they met again, they were two people who used this past judgment and hatred to fuel their sexual desires. The reason they had fallen apart, she realized, was because they didn't fight anymore and in the back of her head she wondered if that meant the loose connection between hate and lust was gone as well. She thought that not fighting meant he didn't love her.

But perhaps the reason they loved each other so much was because they had grown. They weren't the two kids in black robes anymore. They weren't the passionate lovers that they were in Ireland. They had healed each other, fixed each other, and now they needed each other.

So instead of pressing him, instead of making him feel bad for not knowing, she let go. She did what was right.

"That's ok, it's ok."

_**Draco:**_

"It's ok?" he asked. He was part grateful, part confused. "How does someone like you tolerate someone like me?"

She smiled, a beaming and wide smile, and it warmed his core.

"What do you mean?"

"You have everything figured out." He said and moved close to her. He ran his thumb across her jawbone. Her face was so smooth, even without makeup. "How can you stand my not knowing?"

She shrugged and bit his thumb, gently.

"I don't know, Draco. Because I love you?"

"Question or statement?"

"I love you." She wrapped her arms around him and he could feel her heart beating against his. "I love you, I love you, I love you."

**Three hours later.**

_**Hermione:**_

"Shit, ok, ok, ok." She got out of bed and tried to yank on clothes that were lying on the floor.

"Why are you getting up?" Draco stretched and she watched his chest expand and then get small again.

"I have to work." She responded and put on a sock.

He closed his eyes again, apparently satisfied, and she ran around looking for her gloves.

"Where are you?" she said to herself, searching for bits of purple fabric.

"Looking for these?" she turned and Draco was smiling sleepily, holding up two magenta hands in his own.

"Oh, yes." She breathed.

He came to her and took one hand in his, slipping on the correct glove slowly. He repeated with the other and then clasped both hands together and kissed them.

"I love you." He said.

She loved him too, so much. It shouldn't be possible but there it was. Draco and Hermione, in love. She kissed his lips quickly and turned to leave before she changed her mind.

The wind bit at her cheeks and heels, but she kept going until she reached the gates. Draco always laughed at her for walking to the gates before apparating, but it always reminded her of kindergarten and the early years of school where her mom walked her to the bus and then she was whisked away.

She looked around herself and took it all in. The soft footprints she left in the ground, the silent winds that carried her hair off her shoulders. Then she took a deep breath and left it all behind.


	22. For You, Anything

**Disclaimer: I wish it were mine.**

**A/N: Want to know why this has taken me so long to write? Because I wrote the whole chapter out and then decided I hated it and started again. I don't think I've ever taken so long to update…I hate being a drifter. I'm sorry, guys! Also, thank you times a million for everyone who reviewed and read, subscribed and favorited.**

**And to my good friend **_**Earl of Sandwich**_**: he probably won't read this for a while, but I hope he's having lots of "fun" ;]**

_** Draco:**_

Draco was making dinner for Hermione when it happened. She flew in the door, her cheeks rosy and smiling from ear to ear. His heart warmed to see her like that.

Putting the spoon in his hand down, he returned her smile.

"How was work?" It felt so…_married_ to be asking that question.

"It was…I am…" she squeezed him a hug. "Draco, I am so happy."

He smoothed his hand down her hair, feeling the frizz and bump of her curls.

"Are you going to tell me why or should I guess?"

She pulled back and looked up at him. Her lips touched his lips. White teeth flashed.

"I'll tell you. But first, what's for dinner?"

He watched her take off her scarf and wrap it around the top of a chair. She placed her purple gloves in the pocket of her coat, which she took off and placed on the chair as well.

"Closet." He said.

"Hmm?" She looked up, still smiling.

"The coat goes in the closet, please." He didn't know why he wasn't smiling as well, but suddenly he felt as though he were on the tip of a precipice. His heart was racing.

"Oh." She mock-slapped her forehead. "Right, yeah."

As she walked away with her coat, he looked down into the pan of vegetables. The familiar smell of cooked broccoli and noodles made his stomach grumble.

Her hands wrapped around his waist from behind, surprising him.

"Mmm." She whispered into his back. "It smells good."

He relaxed instantly, his anxiety from before melting into the pan he was stirring.

"It's your favorite." He was pleased that he could give her that.

"I know." She reached on her toes, the floor creaking, and kissed the back of his neck. "I'll set the table."

**-X-**

When he was younger, a child even, (though he had been hesitant to think that what he had at home was a proper childhood) Draco used to have reoccurring nightmares that would end with him screaming at the top of his lungs. He never knew that he was screaming, or that he wasn't dreaming anymore, but his mother would suddenly be there, her perfumed scent surrounding him and telling him that it was ok now.

One time his mother was out of town with some friends. He and his father had never really gotten along, but nonetheless, they had dinner, talked about he upcoming year at Hogwarts, and then parted for separate areas of the Manor.

He was in the shower, feeling the residue oil slip from his hair into the drain, when a muffled sound came from in his bedroom.

Without thinking too much, he ran out, water still running and hastily pulled a towel around his waist. He barely made it without slipping but as soon as he threw open the door his heart stopped. If he hadn't had a good grip on his towel he would have dropped it.

"Father?"

Why was his father here? On the other side of the Manor? In _his _room, no less.

"Draco, what are you _doing?" _he hissed.

"I'm…I heard a noise…and…"

"And you thought you'd come and, what?"

"I don't know, father."

"Drop your towel and frighten them to death? Make them cover their eyes to give you privacy so you could sneak attack them?"

He winced but covered it up with what would soon be his characteristic smirk.

"Yes, father."

He turned and went back into the bathroom without thinking much of what he had been doing in there in the first place.

The shower had gotten lukewarm, but he stayed until it was cold. When he stepped out, he picked his towel up from the floor and wiped himself clean. He pulled his flannel pants on and padded back into his room.

His father was asleep in the armchair that Draco normally read in. He was torn between waking him up and asking him what he was doing there, and just leaving him to have the room to himself.

In the end, Draco slipped into his bed and fell into a deep sleep. As usual, he awoke with a nightmare and hands on his shoulders, rubbing rhythmically and _shh_ noises in his ear. _Mum's come home early_, he thought, but there was no perfume and the hands were big and rough.

His eyes adjusted to the darkness and he saw that it was his father, hair pale in the moonlight and eyes filled with…worry?

"Shh. It's ok, Draco. It's ok."

When it was morning, there was no sign of his father. They never mentioned it and his mother never did either. But he never had another nightmare, not until the war started at least.

He wasn't sure why that was. It had no relevance on him as a child and he was mostly just glad that the nightmares were over. But maybe, at least to Draco, that had been a sign that his father loved him. That he wanted to be there for him, even if it wasn't a constant thing.

It had never happened again…this affection. Draco knew his father was proud of him. He knew he'd give him anything. It just seemed difficult to escape that pride.

Malfoy's were expected to uphold their positions in the Ministry. They were supposed to keep up with the Malfoy manner. It just wasn't what Draco wanted for himself anymore.

But just like the never ending nightmares, just like the screaming and the loss of sleep, it would take a big sign of affection to reassure him that it was ok to be himself. It was ok to let go.

_** Hermione**_

It seemed to Hermione that in her life there were only a few things she expected: a job, a family and death. Having cheated death a few times now, she realized that those things she had based her whole life upon no longer existed.

She was 23 years old this year. She had always thought, since she was 13, that she would be a Weasley by now and have a job at the Ministry with parties at night and information by day. She'd be weighing the pros and cons of a child-the responsibilities that came with getting a new pet maybe. She'd live in a house like the Burrow.

But instead she was dating Draco Malfoy, heir to the Malfoy fortune. She had a job at a Bookstore and her stomach was as flat and unready as bread without yeast.

It was snowing and the white flakes fell on the gates of Malfoy Manor. She wrapped her fingers around a black pole and rested her forehead on the space between two bars.

Poles, not bars. She wasn't imprisoned here.

A flicking sound came from behind her. She turned around quickly, slipping a little in the slush.

"Oh, Draco. It's you."

His wand was lighting the tip of a Black and Mild. He took a hit and passed it on to her. She smiled and placed it between her lips.

"Dinner is ready." He said.

"I figured." She exhaled smoke. The gray almost blended in with the thick air around them. Her breath was coming out in equally puffy hazes.

"You had something to tell me?" he asked. She nodded. "Should I be worried?"

"No." she smiled. "Don't be silly. It's happy news."

His eyes flicked down to her stomach.

"Happy news?"

"Oh! No. No, no." She laughed and folded her hands over her chest.

He took the cigarillo from her and took a couple hits. She could smell the light fruit that she associated with Ireland…with falling in love.

"I love you. So much Draco."

She couldn't help it. Sometimes she was so overwhelmed with emotions towards him that it was impossible to keep it in. Her eyes travelled over his broad shoulders that carried a thick but fitting blue jacket. The silver of his hair rested on the tips of his collar. He had just shaven this morning and his chin cut through the air. He was beautiful, his skin matching the snow. If there was ever a moment that she needed to reassure her she was making the right decision, this was it.

**-X-**

"Ginny!" Hermione squealed as she saw her friend enter the shop.

A flurry of red hair swirled around her face as she was embraced in a hug. She motioned to her boss who was behind the desk that she'd only be a minute.

"Hermione, you look so…perfect here." She smiled and Hermione was grateful for it.

"Yes, well, these books do flatter my complexion. And the lighting is supreme here."

Ginny laughed and lightly tapped her shoulder.

"Am I going to get you in trouble? I brought coffee." She reached behind her on the table and pulled two coffees in the air. She handed one to Hermione, who relished the immediate smell in her direction.

"Your mom makes the best coffee. The best."

"It's basically the only reason I even go home."

"Yeah, who needs time to catch up with their parents? Get coffee and leave!"

She winced after she said these words, thinking of her parents and then hoping that one-day she'd come to terms with their separate lives.

"So." Ginny said between sips.

"Oh, let's sit."

They sat in a corner that was lit by a dozen candles in the air. She liked to come here by herself sometimes and pretend she was still in Hogwarts.

"So." Ginny began again. "Christmas."

"Christmas." Hermione repeated. "A time of many gifts and snow storms."

"I think you should spend it with us."

"Is Draco invited?"

"Yes."

Hermione blinked before smiling. No doubt it wasn't Ron or George who had decided this was ok.

"Molly is an angel."

"Yes, well, it should be wonderful. Your ex arch-enemy, not boyfriend, my ex boyfriend/love of my life, my brothers and my parents, both of which who still are not over Fred being gone."

Hermione nodded jokingly.

"Typical family celebrations."

"Yes, yes."

"So is that all you came for?"

Ginny bit her lip and looked down.

"Not really." She admitted.

"Well…out with it. Go on."

"Hermione…a letter came for you today. It was sent to the Burrow by accident."

"By accident? How is that possible?"

"Well…you're last known address is your flat, which you sold, and not many people know you're living in the Malfoy Manor…so…since it's no secret you're a family friend…"

"Ah. Ok. Well do you have this letter?"

"Of course." Ginny reached into her coat pocket and pulled out a folded up envelope. Hermione reached for it but Ginny pulled back.

"What the-Ginny, come on. What's wrong? It's just a letter, I don't know why you're so nervous."

"Hermione, it's a Muggle letter."

"Oh."

The letter, which was currently being squashed in Ginny's grasp, did have a certain quality to it. A stamp in the corner, a piece of the front raised up from not being licked shut.

"Can I have it then?"

"You're not…I mean, what if it's about your parents? What if it's bad news and."?

"I'm not going to break again, Ginny."

She smiled thinly and handed the letter over. But it wasn't about her parents. She knew that immediately, without even opening it.

Her heart thudded behind her ribs. She was nervous/excited, a feeling she had only gotten the day before her first day of a new year of Hogwarts.

"_Hermione Jane Granger,_

_ We are pleased to announce that you have been accepted into the University of California…"_

She looked up and Ginny was peering over her shoulder. When they were facing each other, her forehead was crinkled in confusion.

"You have a lot of explaining to do, Miss."

**-X-**

It had been an accident, really. She had applied at the end of last year while she was still in Ireland. Truly it had been Madge's idea.

They had been sitting on the softest bed of grass in the National Park, talking about their lives when Hermione had admitted she always wanted to be in archeology.

"Archeology…what is it's purpose?"

"To learn more about where we came from, I suppose."

"But we have magic for that."

"And yet, for me at least, there _hasn't_ always been magic. I had so many questions as a little girl." She picked up a handful of grass and let it scatter in the wind. "I'd like to answer some of them."

But of course it hadn't been easy. Of course not. For one thing, she didn't have transcripts. For another, she didn't know what school she'd go to. And so, before she had met Draco, while she was barely moving and living and breathing, Hermione spent her time in a Muggle library in Ireland, using an old cranked up Internet connection to fuel her curiosity. And when she had found a University-in America, no less!-she was stuck. There were no answers for this problem. Until she hesitantly went to Arthur Weasley.

For no other reason than he had connections with the Ministry, Hermione had a fake transcript. It wasn't as hard as she thought it would be. A little polyjuice potion to get some signatures and recommendation letters, a little lying here and there…it was a long shot. She barely remembered it, in the end. The letter was just as much of a surprise to her as it was to Ginny.

But here it was, all the same.

And here she was, explaining to Ginny and trying her best to explain it to herself.

At the end of it, Ginny just shook her head and smiled.

"What's so funny, Gin?"

"You're sitting here, trying to convince me of all of this and yet…you already have your mind made up. It's already done."

Hermione clutched the envelope tightly in her hands. Yes. Her mind was made up.

_** Draco:**_

She looked out at him from above her plate. She was nearly finished, but he had been done minutes ago. She was contemplative and quiet that night, but not in a sad way. In a Hermione way.

He found himself reaching across the table and taking her hand in his. He squeezed and made her catch his gaze.

He saw himself in her pupils, the figure dilating and swirling.

"You're leaving me." He said simply.

She squeezed back and nodded.

"Yes."

But it didn't hurt as much as he thought it would. A couple days ago, in the snow, with her eyes cast up at him, he thought his world would end. But she wasn't his world, not really. She simply lived in it.

And he wanted her here. Draco Malfoy, pureblood and heir to a fortune, wanted her here forever. But they were young. And she was like a butterfly that everyone kept trying to pin to a corkboard. He wouldn't join in. He wouldn't hurt her. He'd let her go.

She sat there, forgetting her food, and talked for hours. He listened. And when it was all over…when it was just them at a table, both of their hands holding each other's, there was a peace between them. There was a still but musty air, like a cracker jar that had just been opened after being closed for years and years.

There were memories swirling around in his head. Her, stumbling around their first year on the train, trying to find Neville's toad while his lip curled in disgust. Him, calling her a Mudblood on the Quidditch field their second year and meaning it with all of his heart. Their third year when she punched him in the face while Potter and Weasley laughed in their elbows. Fourth year, when he was turned into a ferret by the fake Mad Eye Moody, being humiliated and for the first time feeling…disgraced that she was watching. There was that time he saw her at the Yule Ball, and for a minute he lost his breath. For only a minute. He saw them arguing and sparring, heated and hating each other so much.

But he also saw them loving each other. He saw her jumping on his bed and singing songs that he didn't know the words to. He saw her wrapping a towel on her head after the shower, pretending to be a cobra dancer and seducing him while still naked. He saw _himself_, buying her flowers for the table and making her dinner. He remembered welcoming her into his home and wanting her to never leave. To curl up in his blankets and leave her scent for him to use when she was gone.

But these things, these moments, they were just that. And though they were incredible, though they had changed his life and left him as beautiful as he could possibly be, they would fade without new ones to replace them. That was how it worked.

So, no, he didn't want to let her go. He wasn't ready. But can anyone, anywhere, really and truly be ready for a thing like that? Could you let go of someone that only made you better?

He released her hands and leaned over the table. Their lips touched and when he pulled away he answered himself out loud.

"For you, anything."

_**A/N:**_ _There is still one chapter left and it's almost finished! It's also very short, but I think it's necessary._ _Bear with me, guys._


	23. Kiss Me?

**Disclaimer:** I thought maybe after all this time, something would belong to me. But these beautiful characters-at least the ones you recognize, are not of my creation.

**A/N: **One question I've never answered is the title of this story. Why and how did I choose this? To answer real quick, no, it does not have any affiliation with the movie "Remember Me". Rather, I named my tale this because of letting go. July 2010 my ex erased me from his life entirely, claiming he wanted to forget me. From July to April, I on the other hand, did nothing but remember him. And whenever something happened, like a guy walking by with the same cologne as him or seeing a preview for a movie I knew he'd like, I would think to myself: Does he ever have moments like this? Does he remember me? And I think we all ask ourselves this. Relationships are built upon so many significant little moments, that when it's over we can only ask ourselves, will this forever remind him/her of me?

And so, I give you the final chapter of my story. It's so strange to think that I wrote this over the course of almost a year. Almost a whole year of my life is somehow recorded or in visible form. It shocks me. I can hardly believe it. But it's changed my life and I want you all to know that. When I started writing this, I had just had my wisdom teeth pulled and it was Christmas break. I had this deep dissatisfaction with my life and where it was headed-I didn't want to go back to school. Sometimes the only joy I ever felt this year was when I was writing. I never wanted to return to my art classes and parties. I would write for hours and when I felt that what I needed said had been written, I felt a piece of myself come together again.

It fixed my heart, too. You all listened to me and appreciated me-you encouraged me and, in a way, you needed me. (Sort of.) So you all gave me courage and because of _Remember Me_, I moved on from art and enrolled in school for Journalism with a minor in Creative Writing. Basically, thank you. Thank you to everyone, no matter how long you stuck with me on this.

You may not read my next story (and yes, I do have one planned) and maybe this story really had no significance on you. That's ok. But no matter what you think of my ending, and the story overall, I hope you all share one thing. I hope you all _Remember Me_.

_**Hermione:**_

She had found herself staring at too many empty rooms, lately. As she glanced around the room that her and Draco shared, she wondered if this was the last time she'd ever have to say goodbye to something that meant so much to her.

She wouldn't regret her decision. As much as she loved Draco-as sure as she was that he was the only one for her- she knew that she could never settle down until she was satisfied with her own life first. Her own and completely separate life.

In the end she only had two suitcases, which in all honestly, was much more than she had started out with. They contained clothes and a few pairs of shoes-some bronzer and lipstick-and then also, pictures.

Though they were not in her hands, she could see them as clearly as if they were.

There was one of her and Ginny. They were painting their nails with a special polish she had gotten for Christmas. You could see in the picture Ginny leaning over, her tongue out and her brow furrowed, trying not to get any on Hermione's cuticles. The color turned from blue to pink to purple and then to blue again.

A picture of Harry and Ron, at the table eating chicken with their bare hands, grease dripping on the table and shining on their faces. Ron had a piece stuck in his teeth and Harry needed to comb his hair. She could almost hear the laughter.

She had a picture of Arthur and Molly kissing over a sink full of dishes, bubbles everywhere and Ginny in the corner, mock sticking her finger down her throat.

And if she let herself mentally pick at the ones bellow that-the normal, non-moving pictures, she would be able to see a stack of pictures from her last month with Draco.

Once they had known she was leaving, once they had both let themselves go, it was so much easier to love each other. Funny how it worked like that, but it did. They tumbled down the well of a deep love with no limits, no boundaries and no end. It scared her…it scared him too, she thinks.

They had spent Christmas with the Weasley's and it was as perfect as a Christmas could possibly be. Between meals that Molly endlessly made, they went outside and played Quidditch, threw snowballs, sled down the hill that ended by a lake. They skinny-dipped in that lake, breaking the ice and coming out almost blue.

They ate as a family-all of them. It didn't matter that Hermione and Draco wouldn't last longer than a month, she curled up on his shoulder and stage-whispered dirty things in his ear. He blushed and George screamed profanities about proper dinner manners. Ginny and Harry avoided each other for a little while, but quickly fell into their old friendship. She was grateful that they made it look so easy. It comforted her in a way she didn't verbally express.

At night they curled up under quilt blankets that Molly made while everyone was at Hogwarts. Beautiful patched of moving stitches, telling stories about everyone growing up.

And when they left, they still had three weeks left, which they spent doing whatever came to their minds first. Roast marshmallows in the stove? Done. Curl up in the oven and spring out when the other is not expecting it? Done. Go out in the snow naked? Well, only she ended up doing that. It was something about how Draco wouldn't be "aesthetically pleasing" if he went out naked in the cold.

But the last week was harder, quieter…sad

She dragged out packing until the last day, and then they made love again and again all over the house, dragging his blankets everywhere to keep warm under.

And now here she was. Nothing but two suitcases and a bundle of pictures to keep with her wherever she went.

It gave her comfort knowing that Draco would be ok. He had a meeting arranged with his father to talk about his future. Draco and her had discussed exactly what he wanted so she held in her heart some hope that he would travel like he had wanted to and that his plans for having his own business would end up happening and not just exist only in the spaces between their skin.

He would exist without her. And she would exist without him.

"Are you ready?" Draco asked. He held one of her suitcases but he offered it over gently.

They had agreed she would get into the gate of the airport by herself. He had already helped her check in baggage and ate one last meal with her. No need to drag it out farther. He would apparate in the safety of a bathroom and she wouldn't look back.

"Yes." She smiled. "No. Not really."

"You'll be great." He opened her hand and wrapped it around the handle of her bag. It was heavy and she realized he had taken the larger one for her-carrying her load for her one last time.

A voice came on overhead, saying that it was her last call. It felt weird hearing her name. A sense of urgency rushed into her. This was it, she had to go now.

She dropped her bags and took a step towards him. He was wearing pressed pants and a button down. Easily, he was the most handsome man here. Easily he was the most handsome man anywhere.

"Kiss me?" she asked.

He bent down and took her face between his hands. Their lips met and for one, two, three seconds they were together. When they separated, so did they.

_Don't cry, _she warned herself. It's over now. You two are over.

"Goodbye, Hermione. And thank you for everything."

He turned as she picked up her bags. She didn't have much time.

"Draco!" she called and ran after him a little. He turned around and raised an eyebrow. "Draco…will you…will you remember me?"

A silly question to ask of someone she no longer shared a life with. Of course he wouldn't remember her-at least not eventually. He would meet other people and have a family, a job, a _life_. Her throat burned.

But then his eyes. They filled with tears and she knew that he was thinking the same thing that she was. There was no forgetting, at least not with them. They had come together to forget, but parting would not give the same effect. Parting would only lead to longing and longing would help them find each other again.

Maybe.

His eyes told her that he understood. He saw how happy this already made her, the little bud of excitement making a nest in her chest. They couldn't be together forever, not right now.

Forever belonged to people who had earned it and who fought for it. It was an end to one part of life and the beginning of another.. They simply hadn't reached that end.

"Always." He whispered, but she could hear him a million miles away.

She turned with her bags and walked down the aisle. Her ears strained to hear Draco walk in the opposite direction; the clack of his shoes hit the floor. And then she handed her pass to a smiling flight attendant. She got on the plane and sat down.

_Always_, she repeated in her head.

Always.


	24. Fight For You

_It's been seven months since I've completed my story. Almost another year! It's amazing how different my life is, but I'm sure none of you are interested in that. You're all wondering (or not) what this right here is. _

_I never expected for my little story to be so well received and for it to have touched so many people. I've read all of your reviews and teared up at all of your responses to what I honestly didn't even think was that good! I can't thank you enough for taking your time to listen to this story of mine._

_Except, well, I can. _

_So many of you asked me for just one more chapter-an epilogue of sorts. And at first I was opposed to the idea of that, because epilogues are cliché and annoying and unrealistic. The POINT of my ending all those months ago, was that it was supposed to be realistic. Reasonable._

_And then I ran into my ex, two years after our breakup. I told myself so many times that I was never going to be able to see him again, and when I did despite everything it was…well, a miracle. And also an epilogue of sorts, because our ending was so unresolved that even though it was a REASONABLE ending to our "story"…even though it was life, it was still so godamn unfair._

_Which I image is sort of how this story ends-unfairly, I mean. So, here's an "epilogue", although I hate calling it that. It's an addition…a possible afterthought. It's equally realistic and equally bittersweet, and I think you'll all like it. Love it, maybe?_

_**HOWEVER. DON'T READ THIS IF YOU'RE SATISFIED WITH THE ENDING. **_

_I've gotten into a fanfic before and had it ruined by an epilogue. You can't unread things. So, I'm serious. Don't read this if you're going to be mean to me about not "liking it"._

**Finally**, because I know if you actually read all of this (hahahah) you just want me to get to the point. Thank you from the bottom of my heart. You're all such beautiful, wonderful people. I'd be nothing without my readers!

**Hermione:**

She is twenty-seven years old. It's funny, because she can't really remember when this happened, but somehow it had. Some days she woke up and stared for hours at herself in the mirror, trying to see if she had changed. She supposed that living with yourself every day made you a bit oblivious to change.

Still, she wasn't blind to the tiny creases on her face that came from being out in the sun every day. Her job was demanding, but she loved it. In a way she didn't mind the little crinkles because they were proof that this past year really happened. The dirt, the sun, and the bones…they were all real.

Just like today was real, she reminded herself.

She got up out of bed and stretched a bit. Her back arched and she let herself fall back and sleep again for a couple more minutes. After repeating this a couple times she finally got herself in the shower and scrubbed herself clean.

While the water pounded down on her back, she ran through her day's events and carefully fit them in her mind so that none would overlap the other. Today was important. She couldn't be frazzled today.

The fuzzy carpet felt warm under her wet feet as she stepped out. Immediately after she had wrapped a towel around her torso, a tiny black ball curled around her ankles. Stooping down she cooed at the little kitten and scratched behind her ears.

"Morning Marla." She sang and kissed her nose before proceeding through her morning ritual.

She had adopted the stray one night a month ago when she found it outside in the rain. Heartbroken, it had become her new love, her reason to carry on when times were stressful. And she had always been a cat person, really, so it wasn't a sacrifice.

"Dry cleaning." She reminded herself as she dried her hair. "Taxi." She murmurs as she applies mascara. "Ticket." Firmly, while she's running around grabbing her things. And as she rushes out to the corner of L.A, where a little dry cleaners is to begin her list, she checks and double checks before saying the last "to –do" of the day. "Airport. New Mexico."

**OOO**

Hermione has flown many times in the past couple of years. She's even grown to like it, despite how slow it is in comparison to apparating. But she's never been on a plane for this long, and she's a bit terrified.

The airport is huge and scuttling about with people, making her feel claustrophobic for a moment. The moment passes and she clicks a steady rhythm to the line for tickets.

She has one on hold for her but it always makes her nervous going into an airport not having it directly in her hand. It's like sneaking into a movie theater and the entire time supposed to be spent watching the movie is instead spent preoccupied with not getting caught.

But the ticket goes through and a smiling older woman hands her a couple rectangles with printed information. Quickly she scans it until she sees **GATE C** in boxy letters.

Since she's been here before she knows that gate c is all the way in the back, but she has time.

While she's walking, bag clipping behind her, she scans the ticket again. And then her heart stops.

Flight departure is listed as 11am, not 1pm like she had pounded into her head the entire morning. Hermione Granger is about to miss her flight.

**Draco:**

It's a funny story how Draco Malfoy of all people ended up in an airport. He didn't mind Muggles anymore, he liked them actually, but airports were crowded and plane rides were so much longer than apparating that it wasn't even funny.

Ok, so the story wasn't funny. Not really.

But it went a bit like this.

About a month ago, Draco's best friend George Frit, a 28 year old Muggle English teacher had a "pushing thirty" crisis. He frantically rushed through several ideas on how to live more currently, to absorb life more fully, before settling on the notion that he had to, just had to, go to California. And then he dragged Draco into it.

Draco doesn't mind being twenty-seven. It's a nice number, one he's comfortable with. But he doesn't think he's done much to deserve being that old, and most of the days have run together in light fuzz. He enjoys his life, but it's that fuzz that makes him agree to go to California.

The flight had been murder. Several transfers until finally reaching it almost like an afterthought. He was exhausted, beyond that. The only thing that had kept him awake the whole way was George, who kept chattering on and on about all of the things they were going to do-to see! It was irritating.

"So, if we just go and get our bags, I think we can get a taxi, yeah?"

"Yeah." Draco agreed monotonously.

They headed out from Gate C, and George rambled more and more until Draco stopped dead in his tracks.

"What are you-"

"Shh." He waved off George absentmindedly.

He had heard something, maybe, and he wasn't sure but it sounded a whole awful lot like-

"Final boarding call for Hermione Granger. Final boarding call." Came a voice on the loudspeaker.

The breath stopped moving through his lungs. He would have fallen over except for George grabbing his arm and shaking him.

"Why are you making that face? It's really unattractive."

"George." He pressed. "Did you hear that?"

"Hear what?"

"Her name. I mean, sorry, Hermione. They called her name."

George shook his head incredulously and tried to tug him along some.

"Not this again, Draco. She's gone, remember? Haven't seen her for around six bloody _years_."

"Yeah, I know, but I _heard_ her name."

"Sure you did." George said, and it almost sounded like reassuring a baby. "Now let's go get our luggage and you can discuss it along the way."

"Actually, I'm just going to go back for one second and see. Just in case, ok? You go on ahead and I'll catch up."

George sighed and starting walking. He looked mad, but Draco couldn't wait to be right about this and shove it in his face.

Draco turned around and headed back in the direction of the gate. He didn't even know what he'd say to her if he _was_ right, but to see her, to run his hands through her-

"OOF!"

A sharp pain ran through his left arm and then his entire body as he was knocked to the ground and elbows dug into him.

"Bloody hell, watch where you're going!" he yelled and got up.

But it was Hermione. It was really her.

**Hermione:  
**

She had imagined many scenarios of seeing Draco Malfoy again someday, but none of them were at an airport where she literally ran him over. If she had time to be embarrassed she'd be extremely apologetic, maybe even say hello, but as it were she was late.

She only had enough time to take him in quickly. His hair was shorter, a bit darker, and stubble covered his once clean-shaven face.

"I have to go." She said. "I'm late."

And then she ran away. Again.

**OOO**

"You don't understand. I was _almost here_ and then I tripped. I would have made it. Can't you just-"

"I'm very sorry Ms. Granger, but rules are rules."

The woman, whoever she was, didn't look very sorry. She was smiling much like a clown, and Hermione hated her so much in this moment.

"Just-look." She pointed. "The plane is still here and everything!"

"Yes, but the gate is closed."

She considered arguing more, but her trip, which was so important and unmissable, was tomorrow and she had to get there one way or another.

"So what do I do?" she asked finally.

"You can try and find another flight?" The woman, Jan her tag said, typed a bit into the computer stationed on her desk and then nodded. "I think we have one leaving for New Mexico tomorrow morning."

"But I have to _be there_ tomorrow morning."

Jan just kept smiling and Hermione realized with a frustrated sight that she would get nowhere today.

She didn't even bother to say goodbye to Jan, she just started walking away. After about fifteen feet it hit her.

"Did I just run into Draco Malfoy?" she asked out loud.

She remembered how cold his eyes were, even though his face had been more open and lined. He looked…experienced. He had looked…happy.

For a moment she considered going back to find him, maybe catch up. The moment passed and she shook her head incredulously.

_He's better off without you_, she told herself. _He hasn't contacted you in six years._

The most pressing matter at hand was getting to New Mexico in time. She _knew_ she could just apparate right now and be there in a second, but she didn't like apparating to places she had never been before, and she was supposed to meet one of her coworkers on a connecting flight. She didn't know how to explain it to everyone if she was there first.

Sometimes it was hard pretending to not be magic, but she never doubted herself. She loved her life. She loved her job.

All of a sudden she was tired. She couldn't explain it, but it was as though she had gone back in time and become the tired shell of a person she used to be. Her chest was heavy and for a moment she was _sick_ of pretending and done with even moving in this stupid airport.

Before she even knew what she was doing she was sitting at a bar and grasping the edge of the counter with her fingers, head pressed on the cool surface. Getting up again was the last thing on her mind.

**Draco:**

Following his ex girlfriend was possibly the most pathetic thing that he had ever done. What's worse is that he could have just gone up to her and initiated conversation-which was what he desired so desperately, but the longer he followed her, the worse he felt.

He watched as she argued with an overly happy employee over a missed flight, followed her as she had a meltdown in the middle of the airport, and now he was standing in the corner of a bar, watching her sleep at the counter.

He didn't even know what he'd say, or how he'd say it. It was just all too damn…terrifying. She had come out of nowhere, like an apparition, like something he had dreamed up. And now was as good of a time as any to admit that she was beautiful. Even with her head pressed flat, mouth a bit slack, she was the most beautiful thing in the entire world.

Her skin had gotten darker, a nice clear caramel with tiny freckles going along her shoulders. Her hair, which was once a mess of curls, was now cropped short, cutting off a long her chin and pressed straight. She wore makeup now, but it was flattering and not heavy like the style these days suggested. From a distance it was almost like she was another person entirely.

He couldn't take it anymore, and before he had time to even register the thought he had walked over and was tapping her on the shoulder.

Her head sprung up and she fell off her seat. A shriek came out of her mouth as she tried to get up and he was moving quickly, pulling her up by her elbow.

"Jesus, I'm sorry. I should have warned you or-"

"No, no it's ok, I…" and then she realized it was him and the look of shock registered on her face. "Draco?"

"Hey." He said, giving her a crooked smile.

"I can't believe it." She whispered. "Bloody hell, how long has it been?"

"A couple of years maybe?" he shook his head and smiled.

Like he didn't know. Like he hadn't counted each individual day, each hour, every single second, half second, microfiber of a second-as if he hadn't waited for this moment every previously spent second of the last six years.

He gestured to the seats and she smiled back at him.

"Want to sit?" she asked.

She seemed so uncomfortable, so miserable to be there. He felt bad for approaching her at all. He should have left her to her life, the one that she hadn't needed him in.

They sat in complete silence for what felt like years. Finally, she laughed and it was so loud, so out of place, that he jumped back a bit.

"I don't see what's so funny." He drawled.

"This is just so goddamn awkward. Holy hell, I can't imagine a more uncomfortable situation in the entire world."

"Thanks."

"Oh, stop. It's not like you haven't thought the exact same thing. And you know the worst part?"

"Hm?"

"Just when I got the courage to look at you and maybe try and say something, you were biting your lip in that really sexy way that you always did when you were about to kiss me and I…I imagined you naked." She started laughing again, so hard that he thought she might fall again.

"That's funny to you?"  
"It's hilarious. And it's also so uncomfortable for me. And you, I bet."

And just like that, for him at least, it wasn't. Her smile, so white in comparison to her skin, showed these fine lines around her mouth and in the corner of her eyes, but it was the same smile. The same wide lipped curve on the same face on the same girl. No time had passed in a manner of seconds.

"Ok, fine. It's horrible, I'll admit it."  
"What are you even doing here Draco?"

"Shit."

He remembered George and he realized it had to have been over half an hour since he promised to meet up with him. He imagined Greg just standing in the corner of baggage claim, frowning and impatient for his journey.

"What?"

"One second." He stood and pulled his cell out of his pants pocked. Her mouth dropped. "Spare me the jokes on a Malfoy having a cell phone, I'll be right back"

He pulled up George's number and listened to the rings-only two before an angry voice.

"What the fuck? You said you'd be here man!"

"I know, I know, but listen-"

"But listen nothing. She's not here man. It's time to go."

"But she is. She's three feet from me. In the bar."

Silence.

Then, "No shit."

"No shit." He agreed.

More silence.

"Ok, Malfoy. Do what you have to do. You know the hotel?"

"Yup."

"Alright. I have your luggage, don't worry about it."  
"Thanks George."

Turning around he saw Hermione knitting her fingers together, a worried look on her face. How desperately he wanted to be inside her mind, see what she was thinking just for a second. Then she caught him staring and she waved a little.

He walked over and put the phone back in his pocket.

"Sorry." He apologized.

"Oh. No problem." She looked away and the silence grew again.

It was strange because in all of the time that they had known each other, there had been this stopping and starting. First, meeting at Hogwarts, where they hated one another, and no progression was made at all. Then they met again during the war, and he had looked down at her while she was screaming, her arm dripping in blood, and he had wanting nothing more than to save her, to stop it. When she left he had never thought of her again. When they met in Ireland they had both hated each other, still, but then they had loved each other. And now, so many years later, they knew so little about each other that it was almost like starting over completely. Two strangers and one of them was so incredibly beautiful.

All he knew was that he wished he could fast foreword over their inevitable goodbye and get on with grieving again. This little encounter would scar him so much.

"You know, I was thinking of going to Starbucks and getting some coffee. I'm so tired and I could use the caffeine. Want to come?"

He almost thought that it was he who was offering, and then he looked over and she was waiting, looking a bit nervous, so he nodded.

**Hermione:**

"So if we're going to do this I think we should establish some rules."

He looked at her with a quizzical expression, gripping his coffee between those beautiful, long fingered hands.

"Rules?"

"Right. I mean we don't want to over step boundaries or anything."

"Ok. So what's the first rule?"

She bit her lip and looked down. Her hands moved to cradle her face and when she looked back up him, he was staring at her with such intensity she feared she might break.

"No bringing up the past."

"At all?"

"Well." She paused. "We can bring up our separate pasts, obviously, to catch up and such. But not our singular, joined past."

He nodded.

"Next rule should be no holding back. Don't spare my feelings and I won't yours."

"Agreed. And another rule: say what comes to your mind first, no pauses."

"None?"

"None."

"And what happens if there's an awkward moment of silence? What happens if we break any of these rules?"

She thought about it for a second, looked at the tiny lines in his forehead and wondered where he got them, when they happened.

"You have to give a dollar."

"Alright."

"Ok."

There was a tiny silence, and then Draco shook his head and pointed at her.

"Awkward silence! You owe me a dollar."

"No! That wasn't awkward at all. That was just a pause before our conversation started."

"And what's our conversation?"

"I suppose it should be a discussion of what we've been up to?"

"Agreed. So what _have _you been up to?"

"Work, mostly. And I have a cat. So there's that…"

"Crookshanks?"

"No, he died about four years ago. I tried just not having one for a while but then this little black thing came into my life and I just couldn't resist. Her name is Marla."

"So a cat but no boyfriend? That's a shocker." He joked.

"Actually, I have a boyfriend."  
"Really? What's his name?"

"Joseph. He's a Professor at the University I work at."

"Do you think I could just give you a dollar in advance so that I can have a moment of awkward silence?" he asked.

"Why, do you need one?"

"I think I do."

"Alright, sure."

He reached into his blazer and pulled out a wallet. It was small and black, very sharp. It _looked _wealthy. He pulled out a dollar and flung it in her direction. As soon as he saw her take it he looked away in the distance.

She couldn't help but watch him as he silently gazed out in the distance. She wondered what he was thinking about and if he was all right. She supposed she should have told him about Joseph right away, but the truth was she didn't think he'd come up. She didn't think it mattered.

A couple of minutes went by before he looked back and smiled.

"So what's he like?" he finally asked.

"Smart. Intelligent. Very driven."

"Do you love him?"

A pause. And then, "I think that breaks a rule."

"No it doesn't." he shook his head sharply. "In fact, I think you are _required_ to answer because of a rule."

"No, I-"  
"Yes, actually. We agreed to be open with each other. Remember? So, do you love him?"

"Yes."

"Ok, see was that so hard?"

"Bite me."

He smirked and looked down at his drink. She loved that smirk, and she would have told him that before she mentioned Joseph, but now it seemed like a cruel thing to do to him. _Hey, I have a boyfriend, but that smirk of yours is something I miss dearly_.

"And what about you?" she asked. "Do you have a girlfriend?"

"Nope." He took a sip of coffee and looked directly at her. Those eyes, so clear and bright, pierced her in a way she'd never be able to overcome. "Are you going to ask me why not?"

"Why not?"

"Because I don't want one. It's pointless."  
"Pointless?" her brow furrowed. "What do you mean?"

"I mean exactly that. It's pointless."

"Love is pointless?"

"No. But relationships are."

"Ok, so I supposed you're going to go into a spiel on why relationships are pointless now. Right?"

"Right." He took another sip of coffee and composed himself. She waited a moment and then he began. "See, after we broke up-"

"Dollar. No talking about our singular past."

"Fuck." He pulled out another dollar and flung it at her. "Anyway, I did try and have relationships with women in the past. No, don't look at me like that I meant MY past, not ours. And I even had this one girl, Jolene, who I dated for about eight months. She was this absolutely gorgeous creature. She was Brazilian, long legs, gorgeous skin and these green eyes that were so cat-like it was unnerving. She was very tall, only a little shorter than me, really outgoing and well off. I was crazy about her. But then we decided to move in together and that's when it all went down the shitter. See, I didn't realize how messy she was until she was putting her things in my apartment. It was like she had never neatly arranged anything in her life. It drove me crazy! And then anytime we were together, which was frequently since we lived together, all I could think about was how fucking messy she was, and how her hair was always all over the bathroom floor and she never cleaned her dishes. It ruined everything, her messiness. So I broke up with her."

"So relationships are pointless," she interrupted. "Because you're a neat freak?"

"Not quite. See, I think what truly bothered me was how it wasn't that she was _messy_, but that she herself didn't neatly fit into my life."

"Nothing is perfect, Draco."

"No. But when something is right, it fits neatly."

"So then maybe you just haven't found the right person?"

"Nobody has been the right person. I've dated several people and it's always the same. I just don't care for dating anymore. It's pointless."

"That's depressing."

"Well, maybe I'm just not interested in pretending."

"Fine. So then what are you interested in these days?"

"Cooking still, actually. Remember how I used to cook for you all the time? Shit." He pulled out a dollar. "Sorry, forgot."

"It's ok." She had three dollars now. She wondered how he could have slipped up three times now and she hadn't even once. It confused her, to be honest. Was she not as invested as he was? "So, cooking?"

"Yes, cooking."

"And what do you cook?"

"Own, actually. I own a restaurant in the middle of London. It's called _Sonoma_. I opened it about three years ago and it's doing really well."  
"Really? Draco, that's great!"

And it was, she wasn't faking her pleasure at hearing this. The look on his face when he brought it up was amazing.

"Yeah. It's been named a five star establishment and everything."

"Ok, here, take a dollar."

"Why?"

"You'll see."

He took back one of the dollars and waited. She took a deep breath and then exhaled.

"I remember when we first started…whatever, back at the Church? Our conversations that lasted for hours? Well I remember this one time you told me that life is big but we keep trying to put ourselves in boxes. You told me that you hated your office because you felt like a hamster in it. And these past years, whenever I thought about you, I would imagine you doing something you loved, so you wouldn't feel as limited. This just fits, is what I'm trying to say. It fits you."

"Thank you. That was worth the dollar to hear."

Then they were quiet and she looked down at her watch. It's shiny little face read one in the afternoon, the hour she thought she was supposed to be boarding a plane.

"God." She groaned, not even realizing that she had outwardly expressed her frustration until he raised an eyebrow. "I just…I missed my flight."

"Where were you going?"

"New Mexico."

"Hmmm. And why there?"

"I'm leading a trip with some seniors that I teach. We're exploring this area for bones from an ancient civilization."

"And that makes you happy?"

"God, yes. So happy."

"So tell me about it? I mean, I guess tell me about University in general. How was going there?"

"It was hard, I suppose. Not the school work, obviously." She watched him smile at the 'obviously' and then continued. "Making friends was difficult, especially since I couldn't tell them I was magic. For about a year, I was all alone. I would just explore the beach and try all of these little shops. I even got a job as a waitress at this little shack on the boardwalk. Eventually I made friends, and school became more difficult so I actually had to work for good grades. Graduating felt amazing."

"And now you work there?"

"Yup." She ran a hand through her hair and shook it out a bit. "Joseph got me the job, actually."

"And now you're…dating him."

"I think he's going to propose, actually…"

It comes out of her mouth before she can even help it. Her eyes go down at first but then they sharply move up with enough time to catch what she thinks is a wince from Draco.

And it's true, this thought. It's something that's been running around her head for weeks. She had never even said it out loud, never told a friend. Why? She couldn't think of why she wasn't more excited. Why wasn't she telling everyone she knew that Joseph was going to commit?

"That must be exciting."

"Mmm." She cast out absentmindedly. It only took her a second to realize how dull she sounded. How…bored. "I mean, yes. Very."

"Too late." He smiled. "What's up?"

"I don't know what you mean."

"Yes. You do."

"God, Draco. What do you want me to say?"

"Only what you want." She handed him another dollar and sighed. "What's this for?"

"I want a moment of silence, please."

He nodded and folded the dollar in his hands.

She didn't want to see him watching her with that careful expression he had always used around her, like she was going to explode at any second. She wasn't a bomb, she was just unsure, of so many things. But how could she tell him this? How could she tell him that six years had gone by and she was over him, she had moved on and gotten a great job, a great boyfriend, amazing friends. Even her apartment, a little thing on the corner of a street, was fantastic, with it's white washed walls and pictures of her accomplishments hanging up.

Maybe it was because she knew something was missing. There was always a hole she had to move around, something that had to be worked with meticulously.

It was that _always_, the one that the man in front of her had promised when they last kissed and turned from each other. He swore that he'd always remember her, but then a year had passed, and another and another, and he wasn't there. He didn't even try.

She had wanted space from him, sure, but only enough to figure out her life. And she _had_, damnit. She had figured everything out, gotten a job, and when she expected him to return he hadn't. It was so unfair, so cruel, that she simply moved over it.

"You ok over there?"

She cleared her throat and nodded. The moment was clearly over. Except now she was exhausted. She didn't want to continue this never-ending stream of conversation that took more effort than she was used to.

"Yeah. You know, I think I should go. I need to find a flight to get on, or something."

"Hold on." He grabbed onto her arm and her mouth dropped.

Maybe it hadn't been said, but no touching was a goes-without-saying rule. Touching was remembering, and remembering was just as bad as discussing.

"I'm just really tired. It's been a long day."

"What's wrong? What's _really_ going on?"

"Nothing, Draco. For God's sake, I'm _fine_."

"That's a lie." His hand gripped tighter and she yanked it away, watching the little red prints disappear from her skin.

"Fine!" her voice rocked around the room, too loud for the quiet atmosphere. But he had asked for it, he really had. "I woke up this morning, ready to continue on with my life-which I'm happy with, by the way-no interruptions. And then I miss my flight, run into you, and now I'm just fucking tired. Ok?"

He seemed to visibly blanch, his expression turning cold, or maybe remorseful. She couldn't differentiate between the two, but the pain she felt was suddenly overwhelming.

"I'm sorry." He said quietly. "I'll let you go."

For a moment, she considered just nodding and leaving, but their rules…she promised to say how she felt, to be open…

"Uhm. No. I'm sorry. It's just…hard to be around you, that's all."

"It's alright. I get it."

"Do you…" she took a deep breath. "I think I'm just going to go home and apparate there in the morning. If you want, you could come and hang out for a bit?"

She knew she was forgiven for her outburst immediately. A smile crossed his face and he stood from his seat.  
"Sure. I'd like that."

**Draco:**

Hermione apartment smelled like rose water. It was clean, but not overly so, and the sun from outside came in through a big beautiful window. It was a very open home, full of books and pictures of her friends.

"This is it." She said, placing her keys on a coffee table. She slumped down on a couch in the corner and sighed. "It's not much, but I love it."

"It's very…you." He said.

She got quiet, allowing him to walk around and look. There was a lot to see, for such a small space. His fingers ran across the binders on book after book like a xylophone. Older classics transitioned to newer more modern ones.

Tiny lights ran around the top of the room, and he imagined it was beautiful at night when they were all lit up.

"When did you move here?"

"About a year ago. I used to live in this tiny four by four walk up in the ghetto. It was awful, but it was cheap."

"So would you give this up?"

"What do you mean?"

"If you got engaged. Would you leave?"

He regretted the question immediately. He shouldn't have even _thought it_, much less said it. Especially after she invited him in her home.

"New rules."

"What?"

"We're getting rid of the old rules."

"Alright. What are the new rules, then?"

"Only one. Tell the truth."

"Fair enough."

"So ask me again."

"Ask you what?"

"The question you just asked."

"If you got engaged, would you leave?"

"I won't be getting engaged."

She looked so directly at him that he got chills. It was like she was trying to get him to say something first, so she wouldn't have to. But he was clueless. He was so scared.

One wrong question had left her screaming at him in the middle of a coffee shop, people glaring at him like he was a convicted felon. Her face had been screwed up in anger, hatred pouring out onto him like a tidal wave.

"Why?" he asked instead. "You said you loved him, right?"

"I lied."

The truth was so quick that it was almost too much. He didn't know how to process this information, when just an hour ago it had nearly killed him to hear a completely different thing.  
"Why would you lie to me?" he asked, trying not to sound as insulted as he felt.

"Because I wanted to hurt you."

He expected for her to turn away or maybe look down, but she hadn't taken her eyes off of him this entire time.

"Why? What did I ever do to you?"

"It's not what you did, Draco. It's what you didn't do?"

Anger swelled in his throat. His row furrowed and he glared down at her, suddenly full of undisputable hatred.

"I did _everything_ you wanted, Hermione. Everything you asked. Since the day we met in Ireland, it was always your rules, just like today in fucking Starbucks. Be my boyfriend, save me from killing myself, take me back in your home, love me, love me, love me!" He spat out. "Oh, but let's not forget the biggest thing I've done for you. I let you go. You told me to let you live your own life, and I fucking did. So don't you dare sit there on your couch in your nice apartment, with your perfect life and collection of fucking books and cats and twinkly lights and tell me that I did nothing for you. Because I did! I did a whole fucking lot. I loved you so fucking much that I let you go."

"Maybe I wanted you to fight for me, Draco. Did you ever think of that?"

"Fight for you? How about you fight for me for once, Hermione? I'm ALWAYS fighting for you. Even when it involved fighting myself in the process."

Now she was quiet and for just a second he felt bad. But she had said tell the truth, so really this was all of her fault. This was her doing.

"I don't love him." Was all she said, quietly. "I'm sorry I lied."

It was all too much. Her smooth skin, those caramel eyes, the rosewater, the twinkling, the black cat on the floor in the corner, watching them, watching him, this was all a mess, all a huge fucking mess, but he loved her. Now was as good of a time as any to admit that even with years between them, he loved her more than he could ever love anything, anyone, ever. It didn't matter that she hadn't fought for him, because he hadn't fought for her, because he had thought that was what she wanted, because she had told him to leave and he had. Because if she wanted him to fight for her, he would, all she had to do was say so.

He loved her. He loved her so much.

His next few steps were short and calculated. He crossed the room and pulled her up from the couch. Before she could protest his lips crashed onto hers, and they were as soft as he remembered. A sharp pang of longing shot to his abdomen and he kissed her again, again, again. Her tongue was on his tongue, on his bottom lip, his neck, his chest.

"I'll fight for you." He whispered into her hair. "I'll never stop fighting for you."


End file.
